


Windows

by ficdirectory



Series: Disuphere series [8]
Category: The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe, C-PTSD, Cerebral Palsy, Disuphere Universe, Friendship, Gen, Major Character Injury, Protective Siblings, Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 63
Words: 94,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficdirectory/pseuds/ficdirectory
Summary: It's Francesca's first time at camp as a camper.  It's Weston's first time working at camp as a counselor.  Sarah's counseled before, but never with her kid on the very same staff. What do they let others see?  What do they discover about themselves?
Series: Disuphere series [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1321766
Comments: 196
Kudos: 5





	1. Bats

_It’s Family Day of the workshop, which Francesca hates._

_She’s busy taking her time on her way back to Moms, after Olivia brought her to talk to her brother, Oliver, about adoption stuff._

_(Fran would much rather stay and talk to just Olivia and Oliver, but what would Moms do if she just didn’t come back? Plus, she can’t leave Jesus and Mariana without telling them about where she’ll be…)_

_“Can I go to the bathroom?” Fran asks._

_“Of course. You don’t have to ask,” Olivia agrees easily._

_Francesca actually really wants to take pictures on her phone of the ginormous bathroom and all its stalls, to show Dominique. She’s concentrating so much on that, it makes Fran trip over exactly nothing._

_She’s falling like in slow-motion, super worried about what’s going to happen to her phone (still in her hand) if she smashes it into the ground, when a hand steadies her out of nowhere._

_It’s not Olivia._

_“You got it?” a voice that’s hoarse and gentle asks her._

_Francesca side-eyes him. His hair is brown and curling. He’s almost as tall as Jesus but his eyes are bluish-greenish, and he’s skinnier than Jesus. He looks Jesus and Mariana’s age, though. He has two black bats tattooed behind his ear._

_But she doesn’t trust him. What if he’s here because he’s rude and mean to his brother or sister with a disability? What if he recognizes her, or says it’s great she’s walking or something?_

_She doesn’t say anything. Just shrinks away from him once she has her balance and follows Olivia to the bathroom. At the same time, a very happy blonde lady in a wheelchair comes out._

_“Hey! First time in there?” she asks._

_“Second,” Fran grins._

_“Second,” Sarah smiles. It’s contagious. “Pretty great, right?”_

_“Francesca, this is Sarah, She emailed you about if you’d ever been in a media story that made you feel not like a person,” Olivia introduces._

_“Oh, yeah,” Fran says. “I’m going to take pictures in that bathroom to show my friend. Not of people. Just the accommodations. Is that allowed?”_

_“As long as you don’t take any pictures of anyone without their consent,” Sarah says. “You ready?” she asks the brown-haired guy._

_“Are you kidding?” he says, smiling too. “I was_ born _ready…”_

_“Nice to meet you, Francesca,” Sarah says, waving behind her._

_“Nice to meet you,” Fran says. Then she goes into the bathroom to take pictures._

_\--_

_“_ That _little girl’s parents are assholes?” Weston asks, incredulous._

_“Be mindful of where you are,” Sarah cautions, gentle. “And that, whatever else they are, they’re also her parents.”_

_“Shit. You’re right,” Weston says, glancing down, regretful. I just mean… It’s no wonder she looked at me like she hated me…”_

_“What do you mean by that?” Sarah asks, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Weston catches sight of the two black bats tattooed behind her right ear._

_He touches the same place behind his own ear, where he has matching bats._

_(His adoption was finalized on Halloween, just after he turned fourteen. After a lot of conversation, Sarah agreed to a family tattoo, once Weston turned eighteen. It was the longest four years of Weston’s life.)_

_That day was almost two years ago now._

_Weston Jensen is 20. And he’s known stability and safety for the last handful of years._

_“Mister,” he whispers, using his nickname for Sarah. “Can you believe I’ve almost been your legal pain in the ass for six years?”_

_“You’re my Stun,” she says, turning to him with two cups of hot apple cider. He takes both to a nearby table for them. “And I don’t regret a single day. I love the crap out of you.”_

_“Okay,” he says._

_“And you’re not a pain in my ass,” she maintains, sipping her drink._

_“Okay, but let’s lay off the nicknames here. People won’t get it,” Weston cautions._

_“I hear you. Weston,” she adds for a good measure._

_Mister and Stun._

_It sounds like they’re the title of some detective novel where an old, retired dude with a bushy mustache has a questionable weapon. (Or a gay romance novel…)_

_Sarah says it sounds like they’re the title of a classic from the 1800s._

_The truth is, she’s only fourteen years older than him - a little too old to be his sister, and a little too young to be his mom. (Mister combined “mom” and “sister” without being either one.)_

_The truth is, being anyone’s son -- being anyone’s_ anything _\-- is loaded as hell. But Stun is like some nickname or whatever -- a safe way for her to say what he is to her._

_“My Stun,” means nothing historically...and maybe because of that...it means everything to Weston._

_“I remember when you called me that for the first time…” Weston nods, indicating._

_“On Mister’s Day,” she says fondly. “That’s right. After everything was finalized. And I still have the birthday card where you asked to call me Mister…” she wipes her eyes._

_“Of course you do,” he says, but Weston loves how sentimental she is. Her honesty is the shit he aspires to. He’s learning. But it’s a process._

_“You doing okay here?” she asks._

_“Yeah, are_ you _?” he wonders. “These parents...are all…” he trails off seeing Francesca come out of the bathroom again, talking to one of Sarah’s coworkers. “I mean…they’re all someone’s parents…” Weston amends, remembering Sarah’s earlier words. “And that’s the scary part.”_

_“It is,” Sarah nods. “But it’s also why I do what I do.”_

_“To protect them,” Weston finishes. “Just like you do me.”_

_“That’s exactly right,” Sarah says, nodding at him._

_Her respect, her seeing him, her giving a damn like she does?_

_It fills him._

_Weston nods back. He breathes._

_He’s here._

_Somehow, against the odds, he made it._


	2. Dates

It seriously feels like this school year has gone on forever.

Even though there’s only two more days of school after this - and even though it’s Sunday - Fran’s not sure if she’ll be able to make herself go to school those days. But tomorrow, they get their yearbooks, which is a big deal, and getting Fran’s signed by everybody she wants is important.

She sighs.

“I guess I’ll go to school…”

“It’s Sunday…” Mariana mumbles rolling over. “Go back to sleep.”

Mariana’s one of Fran’s big sisters - the one she’s closest to. Mariana just turned 24. They’re the only two who still live at home out of their six siblings. Callie, (Fran’s other favorite sister) is going to turn 25 soon. She works a lot, but she really helped by being there for Fran when she and her BFF Bella were being bullied at school.

Moms think it’s a huge deal that Fran has her first crush, and it’s on a girl. They’re gay, so they were, like, super excited to think about Fran having that in common with them. But the thing is, they don’t actually have that much in common at all. Moms don’t even like Fran that much.

Francesca was born with CP, and even though that’s not a bad thing, Moms’ ableism makes them think that she’s not as good as them, and that her disability stuff is on purpose. It hasn’t been very safe at home lately.

At the beginning of sixth grade, Fran actually moved out of Moms’ house (with Mariana) for two weeks, so that Moms could go to a workshop all about ableism and learn how not to be jerks to them. (Mariana had a car accident two years ago, and hurt her head, and ever since then? Moms have been really mean to her, too.)

They moved in with Jesus, who’s Mariana’s twin brother (also, Fran’s favorite brother.) He and Mariana really care about and love and protect Francesca. She is not that close to Jude. He’s 21, and it’s weird to have him home from college. Brandon was her least favorite brother. He’s the oldest of all of them at almost 26. But he’s moving up in Fran’s ranking system because him and his wife, Talya, just had the cutest baby, Talon, like three weeks ago.

Moms are always over there now helping with him and acting all weird and not like themselves. They’re less mean now, but they still do things that hurt Fran and Mariana’s feelings.

Fran gets out of bed and comes downstairs just as Moms are finishing up breakfast. She yawns. “Are you going to see Talon?”

“We were planning on it,” Mom says. “Wanna come?”

“Yes! I’ll go get dressed! Don’t leave me behind!” she says.

“We won’t,” Mama calls back. “We’ll do breakfast in the car.”

“Okay,” Fran says. She grabs a shirt and some shorts and puts them on. She sprays her hair with water, and then puts lots of gel in it and just barely manages to clip it all back away from her face. (She’s just learned how to do that. It’s way better than Mama doing her hair.)

She’s twelve, but sometimes, with CP, learning how to do things just takes longer.

“I’m going to visit Talon,” Fran tells Mariana.

“Mmm. Have fun. Call and whatever if you need…” Mariana rolls over and keeps sleeping.

“Yup!” 

\--

Fran makes it out to the car and inside.

Mama hands her a granola bar and a juice box. It makes Fran think of the totally random blizzard she and her friends survived during spring break in Minnesota.

She’s glad to be back in California, where it’s warm.

“So… It’s almost time for camp…” Mom says, as they drive.

“Yup,” Fran says.

“Three weeks away,” Mom says again.

“I’ve been counting the days,” Fran says.

“Just don’t pick up any bad habits,” Mama warns.

Fran makes a face. “Like what?”

“Remember when Jude went to cub scout camp? He didn’t shower for the entire week he was there.” Mom tells Mama, wrinkling her nose.

“Why?” Fran asks, confused.

“He said they didn’t have a bathtub…” Mama laughs, like it’s something sweet or funny.

“Word to the wise,” Mom adds, “Your camp may not have bathtubs, but you’re still expected to bathe.”

“Mom…” Fran groans. “I can’t bathe without a bathtub, and anyways this is super embarrassing.”

“Shower, then, you know what I mean…” Mom corrects herself.

\--

They pull into Brandon’s driveway and Moms hurry up to the front door. Fran makes her way up, too, holding onto the side of the house for balance.

Inside, it’s like Talon has grown a ton in three weeks. Fran has seen him in between of course, but every time, it’s like he does something new, or gets fatter. Brandon and Moms keep saying he’s normal, and don’t call him fat. 

But Fran can’t help it that she was a preemie. In all her baby pictures (kind of hidden away in old-fashioned albums) she looks teeny tiny, covered in cords and tubes.

Callie walks out from the kitchen with a bottle, and Fran’s face lights up. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” she says, hugging her big sister.

“Surprise… Ximena and I were in town,” Callie says, gesturing to her girlfriend.

“Hi,” Francesca greets Ximena with a wave.

Once they all get settled in the living room, it’s actually kind of boring. Mom won’t let anybody hold Talon, and Mama’s up cleaning stuff and encouraging Brandon and Talya to take naps.

“Can I hold him?” Fran asks.

“In a minute,” Mom says. 

But a minute turns into forty-thousand, and soon Talon’s sleeping.

“Hey, Fran,” Callie whispers. “Do you and Bella want to come with us to get a bite to eat?”

“Can we go to Gimme Pies?” Fran asks at the same time as Mama says all loud and embarrassing, “You guys, that’s so sweet. A double date.”

“It’s not,” Fran says, crabby, at the same time as Callie insists:

“That’s not what this is.”

“We just wanna hang out with you two,” Ximena urges.

“Yeah. I want to,” Fran nods. “I’ll text Bella.”

\--

Francesca gets to hold Talon for a little bit while they wait for Bella to get dropped off. (Unfortunately, she lives pretty close to Brandon…)

She arrives and rings the doorbell, which startles Francesca (and Talon, who wakes up and cries.)

“Fran, you’ve gotta get that under control,” Brandon whispers, taking Talon from her.

“Doesn’t Isabella know we’ve got a newborn here?” Mama complains. “I thought we told you to tell her not to ring the bell.”

“I did,” Fran objects.

“It’s okay,” Callie reassures. “It’s not Fran’s fault,” she tells the room. “It was just an accident. 

“Home by dinnertime,” Mom calls softly.

But Fran doesn’t answer.

\--

When she’s with Bella and Callie and Ximena, it’s better.

“I love your new short hair,” Fran tells Callie. It’s stylishly short and spiky and she’s wearing a dressy white shirt with jeans with holes, which somehow, works and looks amazing. 

“Thanks. You missed Moms hating it, and saying how much they miss it long…” Callie admits.

“Short hair, don’t care,” Bella says, and she and Fran laugh. Ever since fifth grade, Bella’s started shaving her hair so it’s buzzed like a lot of the boys wear theirs. She hates long hair because it’s too much of a pain and too hot. “Besides, it’s your head,” Bella adds.

“I like it,” Ximena says, and leans over to kiss Callie like NBD.

Fran and Bella exchange smiles in the back seat.

\--

The day is great.

Callie takes Fran shopping to get whatever she wants for camp. She ends up buying Francesca a cute green backpack shaped like a dinosaur. (The zipper is his mouth.) 

She and Bella stock it up with puffy Cheetos, an entire box of Golden Grahams - which they never have at home - and a variety pack of cookies! (Chewy Chips Ahoy in the red bag, Golden Oreos, and Nutter Butters.) Also, two 20-ounce Mountain Dews and a whole box of brownie Z-bars!

Afterward, they stop at Gimme Pies, for coffee and pie. They don’t even get lunch for real.

Sandy, the pie lady, is Fran’s favorite. Francesca orders a piece of Candyland pie and a s’mores frappuccino. Bella gets the lemonade pie and a strawberry and creme frappuccino. 

Callie pays for everyone.

Fran’s tired from all the walking, but she’s super glad to be sitting and chilling right now.

“What are you looking most forward to about camp?” Callie asks.

“Being away from Moms. They’re so annoying. They keep saying, like, ‘ _ Don’t say bad stuff about us there… _ ’”

“Probably because the camp is run by the same people who ran the workshop they went to…” Callie muses. “They want to keep their noses clean.”

“Just their noses?” Fran asks, distracted, stirring her drink.

“It’s just an expression, dear,” Callie says, as her alter ego, a super nice, British grandma named Mrs. Longbottom.

“I just wanna get away...and be me…” Fran ventures, but it’s like, even here, she can’t really explain it.

Bella, Callie and Ximena are all not disabled, at least not that Fran can tell. 

Part of what Fran’s looking forward to is being with other kids just like her. So that she won’t stick out.

Because if everyone’s different, then maybe no one is.


	3. Signs

Weston wakes up to the huge-ass sign across the living room. One of those chalkboard-looking things. It reads: 

_ You and Me  _

_ \- We Got This - _

Right now? Weston hates it.

It’s his own damn fault for falling asleep on the couch last night.

It’s a thing Mister says to him when he gets triggered. To ground him. To remind him of where he is and shit. But right now he feels like they don’t “got this.” There’s just him and there’s memories, like, crushing him.

Before he can really think it through, Weston is on his feet, lifting the sign from it’s nail on the wall and setting it beside him on the couch.

Next, there’s the E.E. Cummings quote: 

_ “You are my sun, _

_ my moon, _

_ and all of my  _

_ stars” _

Mister made such a big deal about putting shit up. Made a whole thing about it. A whole trip to Target just to buy signs. She called it “decor.”

She found a whole shitload of these really intense personal sayings, like:

“ _ You’re my home & my adventure all at once.” _

_ “Deep breath… You’re home.” _

“ _ And I’d choose you, _

_ in a hundred lifetimes, _

_ in a hundred worlds, _

_ in any version of reality, _

_ I’d find you and _

**_I’d choose you_ ** _ ” _

_ “And then one day _

_ There was you” _

And the one that’s ripping his fucking soul apart:

“ _ If I had  _

_ to do life _

_ all over again, _

_ I would find _

_ you sooner _

_ so I could  _

_ love you _

_ longer.” _

This last one is displayed beside a picture of eight-year-old Weston, in a Santa hat with a giant bag over his shoulder. His smile is huge. He barely remembers the day, but Sarah shares about it whenever he wants to hear.

The story goes, it was about a month after they met. After he moved in with the Hoffmans - the family he stayed with the longest, and had felt so fucking sure of - they’d introduced him to The Center.

It was a safe place for foster youth, and Sarah worked there. At every holiday or birthday, you could count on a party. He loved it there. Even though he didn’t remember this first party.

Anyway, Sarah assures him every time that he’s not being a little shit - what it totally looks like to Weston in the picture. ( _ “It looks like I’m pulling some Grinch shit and stealing everybody’s presents…”) _

_ “No, my boss asked if anybody wanted to be Santa and help hand out gifts. You came up to her and whispered that you knew Santa wasn’t real. And she said the real magic of the holidays was in giving to others. In seeing their joy.” _

_ “What did I say?”  _

_ ‘I always wanted to be a magician…’  _ Sarah has a creepy good talent for imitating tone, so that he can almost hear the line coming out of his own mouth. _ “You said it seriously. Very diplomatically. So, you got the job. And you were shocked to learn, after you handed everything out, that “Santa” got to open gifts, too…” _

_ “Nice.” _

Yeah. Weston always says it’s nice.

And it’s a good story and whatever. But today, it’s breaking his fucking heart.

Weston studies himself in an unfamiliar black tee shirt with  _ Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends  _ characters on the front and reads: MY REAL FRIENDS ARE IMAGINARY. His jeans are worn and have grass stains at the knees. His hair is dirty blonde and too long under the hat. He has Kool Aid or something all around his mouth and a giant smile on his face. His eyes are almost totally hidden by the hat. Blue-green and wary, but happy then.

He glances up, and Mister’s here. In the doorway, regarding him and the stack of signs he’s got stacked next to him.

“I can’t look at this shit today,” he admits, softly.

Mister regards him openly, “Then you shouldn’t have to.” She closes the space between them deliberately and holds out her hands. “May I?”

“Wait. What?” he asks.

“May I?” she asks again, patiently.

He hands them over, confused.

Mister stacks them on her lap and heads to the kitchen where she opens a kitchen drawer. “I can put them here. You can get them out anytime you’re ready.”

“What if I never am?” he asks skeptically.

“Then, maybe we’ll never hang them back up,” she says, matter of fact.

She’s gone for a few minutes after tucking the signs away into the kitchen drawer. When she reappears, Mister has their one bathroom sign on her lap and shows it to him.

“Want this one in the drawer, too?” she asks seriously.

Weston cracks a smile. Like Mister is probably hoping he will. 

Because there was one sign that Weston showed an interest in that day. One, that made him honest-to-God laugh out loud. It surprised the hell out of him that Mister pulled it out of the Target bag later that day at home.

It reads: 

_ “Hello sweet cheeks, _

_ Have a nice poop.” _

“No,” he shakes his head. “You got that for me because it made me happy?” he asks, even though he knows the answer.

“I did,” Mister nods.

“Cool,” he nods back.

“Let’s eat some breakfast, and then, we can hang out on the couch. Sound good?” Mister asks.

He’s in charge of coffee, and she makes the oatmeal. Then, it’s his turn to pick a TED Talk to listen to while they eat. He picks Stella Young’s “I’m Not Your Inspiration, Thank You Very Much.” It’s his go-to. Important. A good reminder. But nothing that will nudge his trauma.

“Ooh, good choice,” Mister says, and they both just eat and watch.

After breakfast, they get dressed if they want. If they don’t, it’s sweats all day. Weston carries their coffee out to the couch and sets Mister’s on her end table while she transfers. Then, he joins her. They breathe, counting to 20, alternating. It’s supposed to help with regulation.

“Isn’t it...kinda ironic that we do all this shit...have the same routine...eat oatmeal with fucking hemp seeds in it, do co-regulation...just to then sit down here and drink some black coffee and bear our souls?”

“We have autonomy over our lives, Stun. We each have the dignity of risk. So even with trauma, we can choose what we want in our lives.”

“Like coffee?” he asks, raising his cup. (His says WINGING IT with a bat between the words. Hers has a picture of the witches from the 90s movie  _ Hocus Pocus _ . Weston still hasn’t seen it. And she doesn’t push.)

“Like coffee,” she confirms.

He sips his. “Is that TED Talk where you got your idea for your speech at the workshop? Inspiration porn?”

“No, I got ideas for that from my own life. Wheelchair users usually don’t need to borrow other people’s ableism. We get enough of it.”

“So…” Weston says, thinking back. “Somebody got paid, basically, for choosing to give you a ride...and then exploited you to get their prize?”

“Basically,” Mister nods, making a face.

“Shit. Sorry,” Weston apologizes.

“No, questions are good,” she encourages. After a pause, she asks, “Did you want to talk about your sign feelings?”

“Uh…” he hedges. “I hate them?”

“I see. The feelings or the signs?” Mister asks, curious.

“Right now? Both,” Weston admits.

It’s quiet while he thinks. “Do you remember when I stole your car and crashed it into the mailbox?” he asks unceremoniously.

“You were fourteen years old and in a trauma-trench,” Mister reminds him, “and trying to escape a trigger. What you did...it wasn’t malicious.”

“You sent me to Jolene’s,” Weston recalls, thinking of Mister’s favorite aunt.

“I did. Do you need to hear why? Or do you need to tell me how you felt?” Mister wonders.

“Uh, both. I felt...like I’d put the whole adoption in jeopardy. Even though it had been finalized… I know that people disrupt them...you know? If the kid’s bad and whatever?”

“When adoptive parents disrupt, it’s about them, Stun. I know it’s hard to believe that...but I believe that adoption is for life.” Mister tells him seriously. “But you were saying...when you accidentally knocked over the mailbox, you thought that I was going to disrupt _ your _ adoption?”

“I did,” Weston comments quietly. “And then...you sent me away...just like the Hoffmans...and the Carters...and the Seavers. I acted out, and they sent me away. The placement failed. Whatever.”

Mister just looks at him, her face sympathetic. She doesn’t try to jump in until he nods. 

“You can tell me the rest now…” he says, fidgeting with the string on his hoodie.

“Hey. I know the sign’s hibernating right now, but it’s still you and me,” Mister says. She knows all his stress signals. Even the smallest ones, like when he yanks the strings on his clothes.

“I know. Okay,” he says, meeting her eyes. “You and me.”

“You and me,” she tells him again. “And I called Jolene...because I could see how afraid you were. And you couldn’t come back in the house...and we don’t force each other. So, I recognized that you needed space from me. But I can definitely see how my reaction  _ felt _ the same as what happened to you previously.”

“We talked it out. In therapy. Later,” he remembers. “When I felt okay actually being honest. I let you have it. All my anxiety. Like, months of it.”

“And I am so proud of you for being able to do that. I know it took a lot of trust.” Mister tells him.

“I need to stop talking now,” Weston tells her. “But you didn’t send me to Jolene’s because you were planning to disrupt me?”

“No, Weston.” 

“You didn’t tell me that before…” he objects. “Why?”

“I actually _ did  _ explain it to you then,” she says, conversationally. “But I know you were under a lot of stress. It’s not surprising you can’t remember.”

“Oh,” he says, and then he disappears to his room for a while to decompress.

\--

Mister’s great about giving him space. His room is, like, sacred. He has a hand-drawn KEEP OUT sign he made in high school, complete with a fire-breathing dragon. 

Mister loves it. More than that? She respects it.

So he just chills with music and texts his girlfriend. He and Nyah are tight. She’s, like, the only other person he can be mostly real with. 

He doesn’t work weekends. And Sandy’s great as far as bosses go. They have a signal. If he’s dealing with shit, he asks, “Can I take my break now?” and she knows to give him time. (He knows when his breaks are because he gets them written down for him at the beginning of each shift.)

That’s gonna all change in a few weeks…

He still doesn’t know how exactly he ended up saying he’d work at a camp for disabled kids for a week. It’s so not his thing.

Hold on. That sounds wrong. 

Of course, he cares about kids. And of course he loves helping people out and making them laugh...but being “on duty” all the time scares the hell out of him.

Mister’s assured him that he’ll be one of four counselors in a cabin, so he won’t be all on his own. And that the number of campers is also low.

Still…

It’s not what he ever pictured himself doing. Especially since he already has a job.

But back in February, he’d seen Mister at the computer filling out an app. 

“What are you doing?” he’d asked.

“Well, Roman - my boss at NAU?” 

“Mr. Santanos, yeah,” he nodded. Mr. Santanos had a presence. He was rich as hell. Rich enough to remodel a church into an accessible workshop and fund an entire summer camp for disabled kids.

“Right,” Mister had confirmed. “So, he mentioned they’ve been getting more and more short-staffed each year. I’m just looking into applying...maybe for a week.”

“...And what the hell am I supposed to do while you’re gone, Mister, huh? I’ve lived in enough empty houses. I’m not going to do that again.”

“Nothing’s set in stone right now. I hear you’re worried about the idea of living here alone - and I want us to think together about a solution that works for both of us.”

“Okay.”

“I would never leave you here one-hundred percent on your own,” Mister had reassured. 

That had him breathing easier. “It’s not that I don’t want you to go. It’s just… Could I go, too? We could work the same week or something, maybe?”

Mister had brightened. “I like how you’re thinking through solutions! That sounds like a great option. Yeah, let’s bring that up in therapy…”

And just like that, it’s four months later, and camp is pressing down on him like a weight he’s not sure he can get out from under.

\--

It’s not until after lunch - Mister’s a genius at making and freezing tons of meals - today, it’s enchiladas - that he feels comfortable coming back to the couch again.

He scoots close, little by little, and eventually puts his head on her shoulder.

“I’m…” he hesitates.

“I’m listening,” she tells him, after a beat. She’s always paying attention to him.

“I’m...not okay. The end of May, beginning of June shit…” he shares.

She doesn’t ask what he means. She’s promised she won’t push. It’s enough she knows it’s trauma shit.

He feels her nod.

“And I’m nervous...about kids depending on me…” Weston admits, finally able to put his concern into words. “I’ve never had anyone depend on me before…”

“I hear that. You’re right, it can be scary. Especially for the first time.” Mister reassures him.

“But you’ll be there?” he asks. He knows she will. He just needs to hear her say it.

“Yes, Stun, I’ll be there. I’ll be right next door. If you need me? You just come knock on my door. And you’ll have three other counselors there with you. And I think you’ll do great.”

“You have to say that,” he grins, sheepish. “You’re my Mister.”

“No, I don’t. I’m choosing to. I'm choosing to share my belief in you….because that’s how you’ll grow your own belief in yourself.”

“What if I fail?” he whispers.

“Mistakes are a part of life...and what?” Mister prompts.

“And part of how we learn,” Weston finishes.

“It’s safe to fail here,” she reassures him. “If you fail, I’ll be here, to help you pick up all the pieces, and we’ll figure out what to do next together. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Weston nods. “Yeah, okay.”


	4. Ready

The night before camp Fran is super busy, double-tasking. She’s packing her bags for camp _and_ talking to the Avoiders. 

The Avoiders are her friends who have disabilities or trauma or both. Jesus and Mariana are Avoiders, and so are Pearl and Levi - sister and brother - who live in Minnesota, plus Dominique who is Jesus’s neighbor. 

All the Avoiders are grown-ups, except Fran. They get her more than the rest of her family does, especially Moms. The Avoiders got their name because it is their right to avoid unsafe people, and they do. They have their own in-person meeting place - a picnic table at a park near Jesus’s. They even call it Avoidance.

Tonight, they’re on a video call instead, because of Pearl and Levi being in Minnesota. They meet every Saturday night after dinner. It’s Fran’s favorite time of the week. 

Open bags and clothes are everywhere, and Mariana is sitting in the middle of it all, trying to organize things.

“I thought you were more packed than this,” she comments, looking at the list with only two things checked off.

“But it’s not just two things! Six shirts and six shorts is actually twelve things!” Fran points out.

“Fran’s right,” Jesus chimes in from his square on her tablet. 

She smiles a little.

“I’m sorry. Good job with the clothes. My point is just that there’s a lot more to pack. What else does the list say? Did you get socks?” Mariana digs through the bag that Fran had started.

“I’m wearing my flip-flops. I don’t need socks,” Fran tells her.

“Just in case, though?” Mariana asks.

Fran thinks for a minute. “Fine.” She goes to her dresser to find socks. Over her shoulder, she calls to the tablet, “I’m sorry this is so boring, you guys.”

Pearl smiles from her square, which also shows Levi coming into the frame with a bowl of popcorn. “Are you kidding? This is fascinating! I love it,” she enthuses.

“Haven’t you ever been to camp before? Wait. Did they not have camp in the olden days?” Fran asks. Pearl is 39 and the oldest Avoider. 

“Yes, it existed. I’ve just never been. You’ll have to tell me all about it!” Pearl takes some popcorn from the bowl.

“Bring envelopes and stamps, honey. So you can write letters home,” Miss Nia - Levi’s mom - says, joining them on the couch. (Miss Nia might actually be the oldest Avoider, but Francesca doesn’t add that.)

“The rest of the Avoiders are all excited to see Miss Nia. Fran exclaims, “I didn’t know you were going to be here! I leave for camp tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart. I came to see you off,” she says.

Dominique calls from her square, “Miss Nia, I miss you so much!”

“Oh, I miss you too. You know I do,” Miss Nia responds firmly.

“Listen, I know you love talking to the Avoiders and I do, too, but we have a lot to get done. Can we say bye, and you can update from camp?” Mari asks.

“Can’t they just watch us pack?” Fran begs. “Pearl said it’s fascinating…” 

“But you need to have your stuff,” Levi points out. “We don’t wanna distract you. So maybe call us when you’re done? Or we’ll talk when you’re back?”

“Okay, I guess…” Fran admits. “Callie bought me a ton of snacks!” she says, hefting her full backpack up for them to see.

“You showed us,” Dominique nods. “I love it. We’ll see you later, though. Have so much fun tomorrow--”

“--And next week!” Pearl adds.

“Love you,” Jesus says. “If you need me to grab anything from the store, let me know.”

“Okay,” Fran nods. “Bye, everybody, I love you.”

Miss Nia blows a kiss, and the rest of the Avoiders wave and say bye too. 

The screen on her tablet goes black, and Fran goes back to packing with Mariana.

Seven-thirty comes and goes. Pearl calls back, because it’s her turn to be there for safety when Fran and Mari check in with Moms every night. Only that hasn’t happened since Talon was born.

Fran hangs up and turns back to Mari, who’s asking, “Do you have a sweatshirt?”

\--

It’s the next morning before Francesca knows it. She’s tired from waking up every hour to see if it was tomorrow yet. Now, it is!

At breakfast, Fran asks Moms again if she can ride to camp with her new bestie, Giselle, and her mom. (Giselle is the first friend Fran has ever had with CP like her. Giselle is the one who invited Fran to this camp in the first place.) 

Mom sighs and Mama says, “It’s your first time, honey. We want to bring you.”

“Besides, we have to bring your bags, and they might not have a lot of extra room. Doesn’t Giselle have a wheelchair?” Mom asks.

“Yes,” Fran answers, crabby. “But so? Giselle invited me to sleep over at her house! And you guys just said no.”

“You weren’t even packed, Francesca,” Mama points out.

“I’m packed now. And besides, going to my bestie’s house probably would have motivated me.” Fran points out.

Jude laughs a little. He puts a hand up to high-five her. Fran’s still getting used to having him around again. But he can be kind of nice.

“What’s camp like?” Fran asks, crunching on her granola. “Moms said you went when you were a kid.”

“Uh… Gross?” he tells her. “And the kids were mean. I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t really fit in with the other kids.”

“Oh,” Fran’s face falls.

“Jude,” Mama laughs. “Don’t tell her that.”

“Why not? It’s true,” he says. “I think your camp’s more modern, though, so that’s a plus. And you already know some people. So you’ll probably like it.”

“Such a glowing recommendation,” Mom remarks. “Let's get a move on! We’ve got a long drive, and check-in is at 3 PM.”

\--

With just Moms and Fran in the car, it’s mostly quiet. They still don’t really know how to talk to her. It’s annoying. 

Fran sleeps in the car most of the way until Mama wakes her up all of a sudden. Her voice seems extra loud when she asks, “So, are you excited?”

It startles Fran so much, she jumps. Her heart races inside her chest. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mama apologizes.

For some reason, her saying that makes Fran think of Olivia. The counselor she’ll have at camp, who has CP just like Fran. Olivia taught the session at the workshop all about CP. She’s the one who taught Moms to apologize for scaring her and told them what jumping feels like.

“Mama asked you a question,” Mom says, a little irritated. “Are you excited?”

“Yup,” Fran says.

“Good,” Mama answers. “Oh, did you pack bug spray?”

“No?” Francesca asks it like a question. “We told you we don’t have any, and you said you’d buy some.”

“I told you to leave the list on the table and highlight what you still needed. Didn’t I?” Mama asks. It’s a rhetorical question. Mama loves asking those.

“I just forgot,” Fran objects.

“But you remembered your giant backpack of candy from Callie…” Mom comments under her breath.

“Honey, that’s why you have a list. So we could double-check it for you,” Mama points out. She sighs. “It’s fine. We’ll pick some up.”

They’re quiet the whole rest of the way.

When she sees the huge sign that reads CAMP BRAVERY that they drive underneath, Fran sits forward in her seat. She sees all the sidewalks everywhere and tons of nice, matching wood buildings.

The sun is shining.

Fran lets out a breath she doesn’t know she’s been holding.

She’s here.

Fran is finally at camp!


	5. Mess

“Hey, Stun? This is important…” Mister calls, a signal that she needs Weston paying attention.

He sticks his head out of his room and down the hall, where he can see her on the couch. “Yeah?”

“Come out here, please,” she says.

He sighs. He’s been fucking trying to ignore the fact that fucking camp is right around the corner, and he has the sneaking suspicion that Mister isn’t going to let him.

Instead of letting on, though, Weston finds himself slipping into Good Mode, as he calls it. Ever since he can remember? He’s been cautioned about making sure people - social workers, people at school, whoever - see good things and hear good things from him.

History shows, if he’s honest right now? Bad shit will happen.

“What’s up?” he asks, sending her a smile.

“Listen, it’s the last night. So, we really need to get packed,” Mister tells him seriously.

(She’s being nice. Because she’s been packed already. Weston hasn’t started. He hates packing.)

But he just says, “Yeah. Okay,” and takes off for his room, throwing some shit in his old high school gym bag and returning, breathless, in minutes.

(If this was for some kind of record, he’d so win…)

Sarah looks amused. “You were gone for a minute flat…” she begins.

“I know,” he says, proud.

“And your bag looks empty… What exactly did you pack?” she asks, concerned.

“Oh. Here,” he says, unzipping the gym bag and dumping it out across the coffee table. He sees the same things she can: one pair of boxer briefs, a toothbrush and a stick of deodorant. “Boom.”

“Okay. This is a great start,” Sarah says. “Do you have that list Mr. Santanos emailed us? What to pack?”

Weston blinks. “Yeah, with the suggestions and shit on it? I got that.”

“Great,” Sarah tells him brightly. “The thing is...it’s not suggestions. This list is Mr. Santanos telling us what we _need_ to pack in order to be safe where we’re going.”

He blinks again, realization slowly dawning. He swallows his own frustration, and smiles in a way that puts everyone at ease: “So… You’re saying I need more than this?”

“Right,” Sarah says gently. “Let’s go through the list together, so we’re sure you have what you need.” She pulls it up on her phone. “Some of the stuff, I’ve got and we can share, potentially, if you feel comfortable. Like bug spray.”

“Bug spray?” Weston makes a face. “No one _needs_ bug spray…” 

“Some do. Some are allergic,” Sarah points out. 

“Oh.” Weston says. “You know, one pair of boxers lasts me a week, easily.”

“But you have enough that you can pack six. And it’s a good idea to pack what the list says, because of safety...and also professionalism.” Sarah points out.

They go through the list one thing at a time, with Weston going back and forth to his room a million times to get stuff and bring it out.

They’re almost done (finally) when he asks, “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be up there already? Aren’t we both?”

“Technically, but Mr. Santanos knows our situation and he knows our safety needs.”

“Mine,” Weston murmurs. 

“Right. That’s why we attended the training remotely. And that’s why we’re arriving the same time as the campers tomorrow. It’s an accommodation.” 

Sarah had training for a whole week. Weston had lurked in the background soaking up everything he could and freaking out quietly at the sheer amount of shit Sarah was being taught and / or just expected to know.

(Weston’s training had lasted a day. As an assistant, he didn’t need to know as much, but he was still losing his shit anyway. None of this was second-nature to him. What if a kid got hurt? Or lost?)

“Oh, make sure you wear your staff shirt tomorrow,” Sarah says.

(Sometimes Weston really wishes she were in his head with him. But she’s not.)

Weston holds it up by one corner. It’s brown and has CAMP BRAVERY written in white, as if it’s with sticks or some shit. “This?”

“First day and last day,” Sarah says.

Weston sighs. When they’re finally done packing, they chill on the couch, not talking.

“You know, it’s not a race?” Sarah says eventually. 

“But I always have to pack in a hurry…” he mutters. “There’s never any time.”

“This is different, Stun. Okay. We’re going together. We’re gonna get up tomorrow, same as every day. Do all the Wake Up stuff, eat oatmeal, drink coffee, review the plan for the day, and then we’re gonna drive to camp together.”

“What about our time? You know, on the couch?” he asks.

“Well, tomorrow, that might have to be our time in the car. Oh, and here,” she pulls out a bag from beside the couch. “Snacks. For you. Some kids will have their own. You can eat yours on your breaks, or when it’s just counselors hanging out.”

“Okay,” he nods.

“Hey,” she nudges him. 

Weston glances over. “What?”

“It’s okay not to be okay,” she says, soft.

(He’s not okay. He’s a fucking mess.)

But Weston sends her a sad smile. “I know. I just...have to be this right now.”

“Okay,” she nods.

\--

The next morning happens just like Sarah says it will. She keeps it moving though, which is annoying, because he really just wants to stay home and sleep. But that would mean being alone, so…

Finally, they’re on their way to the car with oatmeal and coffee in little travel cups. They got their bags in the back and everything.

“Do you wanna drive, or should I?” he asks, walking around the car.

“I will,” Sarah offers.

“Cool. Can we get food?” Weston asks, and Sarah doesn’t even comment on the fact that he’s literally holding food right then.

“Sure. We’ll stop somewhere when we get closer.”

\--

They stop at McDonald’s in the next town. Sarah orders Weston a Big Mac, fries an orange soda and an M&M McFlurry. It’s something she knows about him from when he was younger. Something his mom promised him for his birthday when he was just a baby. (He hadn’t been eating Big Macs then, just wanted a plain cheeseburger, but he never got one.)

Because it never fucking happened. She promised every year, and every year she forgot, or he got moved or some shit.

By now, it’s nothing he actually wants on his birthday. But something he craves when he needs stability. Like now.

Sarah had checked with him, asking if he wanted his usual. He nodded. She got a fish sandwich and an iced coffee.

His food is long gone by the time she speaks again: “Hey, Stun? You wanna grab me a napkin?”

“They didn’t give us any,” he says, and offers her a wet wipe out of the container by his feet. He hands her one.

“Thanks,” she says.

“...I don’t think we can call each other Mister and Stun where we’re going…” he ventures, after a pause.

“No?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Weston shakes his head. “I don’t think they’d get it. They’d make it something gross…”

“I remember you saying that at the workshop, too. So, I’ll call you Weston at camp, okay?”

Weston nods. “And I’ll call you...Sarah… Damn, this is weird…”

“It is,” Sarah confirms, smiling. “And I respect your boundary. While we’re on the subject...I love you. And I love your communication. This week, though, it’s important to cut out the profanity. Completely.”

“Not even to describe shit?!” Weston asks, stunned.

“Not even to describe shit,” she confirms sadly. 

Weston mulls over this for a second. “Is this the...I’m an example now, so I have to set an example shit? Is it that?”

Sarah nods. “It is. And these kids are young,” she pauses. “Also...some people equate profanity with abuse and being hurt.”

“We wouldn’t want to scare them, I guess…” Weston admits.

“Right. So, no cursing at camp?” she checks.

“No cursing at camp…” he confirms, let down. In seconds, he slides his gaze to her, a thought occurring to him. “...Mister? We’re not at camp yet, though…”

Mister looks back at him and smiles. Then, she puts down the windows, and they count to three. They shout as many curse words as they can, just to get it out of their systems.

God, it feels good.

\--

They’re almost to camp, and Weston hasn’t really stopped thinking about nicknames. Hers for him, specifically.

“Do you call me your Stun so I’ll fit in better?” he asks casually.

Sarah glances at him. “Fit in better how?”

“Like...all your family have the S names….” he points out.

“No. I call you my Stun because it’s who you are to me. Because I love you. And it is one-hundred percent okay that you told me you’d rather not use our nicknames at camp. I always want to know if something feels uncomfortable or makes you feel unloved.”

“Okay,” he answers.

“Does hearing me call you that make you feel unloved?” Sarah asks.

“No. I like it. I was just checking that you weren’t, like, ashamed of me. I heard Grandma at the reunion...you know...when I was fifteen?” Weston checks.

“I remember,” Sarah nods. “But tell me. I want to hear from you.”

“She was just like, _‘He sticks out like a sore thumb with that name. You know if we ever had a fourth child, we were going to name him Sean? I would’ve named you Sean…’_ That I’d fit in better, and whatever…”

“I love you, and I love your name. It makes you who you are, and I love _all_ of who you are,” Sarah says firmly.

“Grandma doesn’t,” Weston points out bluntly.

“You don’t have to see her ever again, you know? We decided after you met them. We’re all done with that,” Sarah reminds.

“Yeah, but her voice is still in my head…” Weston complains.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah apologizes.

Time passes. Enough time that they drive under the giant sign that reads CAMP BRAVERY and onto the grounds that look just like the website. Like a commercial or some shit. Everything’s bright, and there are sidewalks everywhere, and a million accessible parking spaces.

Sarah pulls into one and puts her sticker in the window.

He stops her before she opens the door with a look. “This… It’s honestly how you feel?” he asks, soft. “You love that I’m Weston?”

Sarah blinks back tears. “I love that you’re Weston. Honestly. With all my heart.”

“Okay. He takes a deep breath. “You and me?”

“You and me,” she echoes. “Are you ready to do this?”

“No, but at least we’ll be together, right?” Weston double checks.

“Definitely,” she says, sending him a reassuring smile.


	6. Limbo

Once, they get out of the car at camp, it’s a blur. Fran’s stuck trying to keep up with Moms, who are carrying her bags. (They almost leave her backpack in the car, but Fran gets it at the last minute. No way she is forgetting all of the snacks Callie bought her.)

They stop a bunch of places first. Fran gets a name tag and it makes her nervous, thinking about which name she should write. Fran? Francesca? Not Frankie, that’s for sure… But like, when she and Jesus and Mari came to the workshop they got a lot of privacy exactly because tons of people might know them. So, wouldn’t it be wrong to announce who she is on a name tag?

(Not to mention the big, huge trouble she got in before the workshop even started because of writing her bio dad’s last name on a school paper. Fran’s already planning to leave last names out of it.)

“Honey, come on,” Mama encourages.

“What should I write?” she hesitates. (Mari and Jesus always knew this stuff. They always helped her with knowing these things that weren’t totally obvious.)

“Fran, there’s a line forming behind us…” Mom says lowly. “Just write your name, and let’s go.”

But Fran can’t. What if she picks the wrong one?

“Just write something, honey,” Mama encourages, a little softer. “What do you want people to call you here?”

So Fran writes:

**_FRAN-_ **

**_CESCA_ **

But that looks silly, so she scribbles it out and takes another one.

“For God’s sake… Can you help her, please?” Mom asks Mama. “We’ll be here all day…”

Mama takes a fresh name tag and writes:

**_Francesca_ **

Her handwriting is cursive and no one will be able to read it, probably. Still, Fran takes it and sticks it to the middle of her shirt.

Fran just sits a lot and stares out at all the people. There are so many disabled kids. It makes Fran really uncomfortable. Not _being around_ them. Just...being around them and Moms at the same time. She knows how Moms feel about disabled kids.

Mama thinks Fran is a walking Wikipedia page all about CP, and she should educate people about it. Mom is just super uncomfortable around disabled people. She almost never comes over to Jesus’s, where all the people living there have something… And Mom just ends up making mean jokes or standing awkwardly silent off to the side.

Fran hates being here with them.

“People are gonna think my name is Francisco, Mama… I have to rewrite this…” Fran complains. 

“Honey, it’s fine,” Mama says. “No one is going to think that.”

“Yes they are!” Fran objects. “You did the same thing at Kindergarten orientation and Shane would not stop saying _“Francisco…”_ like Buddy the Elf.

“But you two are friends now,” Mama points out. “So, in a way, didn’t it break the ice?”

Fran sighs.

Finally they get to Fran’s cabin. She’s glad to find the path marked out in yellow on the sidewalks, so she just has to follow that line. 

“Watch where you’re going,” Mom says softly, when Fran bumps into her from behind.

“Sorry.”

\--

“Hi, Fran!” a familiar voice greets her at the cabin door.

“Olivia!” Francesca exclaims, rushing into Olvia’s arms for a hug. “Hi! I can’t believe you’re my counselor.”

“That I am. Let me show you around. There’s a door on either end of the cabin. In between, there’s a wide pathway here, see? So everybody can get through, whether you use a wheelchair or not.” 

“That’s cool,” Francesca nods.

“The first thing you’ll see is this curtain,” Olivia continues gesturing to a bright yellow curtain with ducks on it. “Behind this curtain is private. It’s where us counselors sleep. If you need us? You call out to us and we’ll come help you. No matter the time. Bathrooms are here. The doors are super light. And on the other side...this is like a hang out area. Plenty of places to sit.”

Fran notices it’s mostly just spacious with a few beanbag chairs and a swing on the edges. Maybe to make room for the people with wheelchairs.

Her cabin is huge and roomy. 

“And at this end? There’s a bunk section, with four beds, for sleeping, and name tags on each wall,” Olivia explains. Fran finds her own, no problem. It’s a sunshine that reads FRANCESCA. A similar one is one the dresser drawers. But she looks at the bed right next to hers. She’d been hoping it would say GISELLE on the wall, but it says DIA instead.

Oh no…

“My friend...she was supposed to be in this cabin…” Fran worries.

“Hey. Did you mean me?” a familiar voice asks, and a smile of relief comes to Fran’s face. She turns to see Giselle in a pink tee shirt and tan shorts.

“Hey! Oh my gosh, you’re here!” Fran says, reaching out to hold Giselle’s hand.

“Hi, Fran. Good to see you again,” Giselle’s mom, Mrs. Smith says.

“Moms, this is Mrs. Smith,” Fran introduces. “She was Jesus’s teacher in fifth grade, and she was a safe person for him back then.”

To anyone listening, who doesn’t know the story, it probably sounds complicated, but once, before Fran was born, and back when her big brother, Jesus, was just a kid like her? A bad guy got him and took him to his house and kept him there, away from Moms, and Mariana. For years.

While he was gone, he had to pretend he was another kid, with a name Fran still doesn’t know. He had to tell everybody he was this other kid - even his teachers. Even Mrs. Smith, who was good and nice and safe.

Now, Jesus is safe, and Mrs. Smith knows his real name and everything. But Moms don’t look too happy Fran is talking about this.

“Honey, we know,” Mama says, laughing like what Fran said is silly. She and Francesca is ridiculous. She’s shaking Mrs. Smith’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lena,” she says and Fran realizes it was probably the right choice to leave her last name off her name tag.

“And this is my bestie, Giselle…” Fran continues.

“I thought it was you and Isabella,” Mom says with a wink.

Fran’s face goes hot. 

“Seriously, I thought you, her, Shane and Kimani were, like, attached at the hip,” Mom says.

(Oh gosh, now Giselle looks confused and a little hurt. Mom is ruining everything.)

“Stef, we should get going,” Mama says to Mom. “It’s nice to meet you, Giselle. You girls have fun this week, okay?”

“Okay,” Fran says and gives them both hugs, so they’ll leave faster.

“Who’s Isabella?” Giselle asks.

Fran doesn’t know what to say, and all of a sudden, she feels eyes on her. There’s a girl in a yellow wheelchair, sitting there, looking at Fran expectantly.

“Excuse me? You’re kinda sitting on my bed… I’m Lexie,” she says, pointing to her own name tag and then at the wall across from Giselle’s bed.

“Oh. Sorry,” Fran apologizes.

\--

Dia, it turns out, won’t even be sleeping at camp. She’s the oldest in their cabin, at 15. Then Fran, who just turned 12. Then Lexie, who just turned 11. Then Giselle, who’s only 10.

They have four counselors, but Fran only knows Olivia, and sticks closest to her. She recognizes the blonde lady named Sarah, who gave Fran permission to take pictures of the ginormous bathrooms at the workshop. Sarah has a gold wheelchair. Francesca has never seen one like that before in her life. The other two counselors, Fran doesn’t know yet.

They spend time making up cabin rules they all agree on, and a cabin song. Fran doesn’t really feel like participating. This doesn’t feel like she thought camp would feel.

She doesn’t feel like she instantly belongs.


	7. On

Camp is alive with noise. People are everywhere. Usually, this is so Weston’s thing. He thrives in places like this. But not when he’s so not sure.

When he’s not sure, he looks to Mister, imitating her confidence. Because it’s the only thing he _can_ do.

It’s a little before 3 PM, and their first stop is the office. Sarah gets in the door and breathes deep. “I love that I can just roll right in here.”

“Hey, it’s the Jensens,” Ms. Martinez greets, from behind a laptop. “How are you both?”

“So excited to be here,” Sarah says.

“Yeah, I’m pumped,” Weston echoes.

“What can I do for you?” Ms. Martinez asks.

“Is Roman around?” Sarah checks.

“Am I what?” a voice asks from behind them.

(It startles the hell out of Weston. He can’t do unexpected shit.)

“Apologies,” Mr. Santanos says, looking cool as hell in shades, a camp shirt and khaki shorts. “Hi, Sarah… And you must be Weston. Great to meet you in person.”

“You, too, Mr. Santanos,” Weston says.

“Please. Call me Roman. If memory serves, you two needed to sit down with me?” Roman asks Sarah.

Weston raises his eyebrows at her. If they discussed this, he’s totally forgotten about it.

“Yes, if you have time. That’d be great,” Sarah says smoothly.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Martinez,” Weston says, sending her a wave.

“Oh, please. Call me Rosa,” she says, sending him a big smile.

“Sure. Nice to see you again, Rosa,” Weston grins back.

Then, he swallows the major fear in his mouth and sits down in Roman’s office. Weston finds a chair, and Sarah pulls up beside it.

“Here is our daily schedule,” he says, handing one to Weston. “So you have something to refer to. And...some guidelines that aren’t necessarily stated but need to be followed...on the second page…”

“Okay…” Weston says, feeling lost.

“Not all rules are spelled out,” Sarah explains. “So Roman wrote down the ones that aren’t.”

He scans the list:

_No profanity_

_If you have questions, ask_

_Help core counselors_

_If you need a break outside of your two break times (mental health) = “Can I take my break now?” (Wait until Koa or Sylvan says yes.)_

“Do you have any questions?” Roman asks.

He has so many, but he doesn’t think, _“Do you spoil your kid?”_ counts. It’s on Weston’s mind, for some reason. And there’s a picture on the desk that suggests he has a daughter around Weston’s age.

“Uh...no… I’m good,” Weston says. “Thank you.”

“Okay, well, here is your list of campers. We give them something to fill out the first night here, so they can choose to tell you more if they want to. For now, it’s names and ages, and major accommodations. And likes.

Weston takes his hesitantly and looks:

\--

_CORBIN - 13:_

_Service dog: Prim._

_Needs: one to one support, communication support, understanding of body / mind disconnect, daytime camp activities, quiet meals._

_Likes: nature, being outside, wildlife, hiking._

_\--_

_NICO - 12:_

_Needs: Swimming / waterfront assistance, help with directions / orienting._

_Likes: horseback riding, swimming, grocery shopping, food._

_\--_

_JESSE - 11:_

_Needs: Time to get used to new people / situations. No pressure to talk. Offer help if he seems unsure._

_Likes: reading, Netflix, playing outside_

_\--_

_JONAH - 14:_

_Service dog: Kieran._

_Needs: Overnight respiratory support, trust him about his health_

_Likes: Coffee, Harry Potter, reading, writing, hanging out with friends._

\--

“Uh, I don’t know anything about how to give a kid respiratory support overnight. Like...I know CPR and all but…” Weston hedges.

“He has an overnight nurse. Her job is to stay up all night, and keep an eye on that,” Roman reassures him.

“Oh,” Weston breathes. “Okay.”

“We should go meet the campers,” Sarah says. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Weston says, projecting a confidence he doesn’t feel. 

“The campers who need more one-to-one assistance? They have it. Okay? It’s not on you to figure that out…” Sarah reassures him.

“I know,” Weston breathes.

They stop by a table to get name tags, and Weston writes his name on his and sticks it on his shirt.

“Bye, Stu-- Weston,” Sarah catches herself. “See you at dinner. Or before, if you need me.”

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees.

\--

His cabin is a fucking hive of activity. Noise and dogs and...people. Parents and coworkers, and Weston has to find his place, like, quick. He manages to get in far enough to get behind their star and moon glow in the dark curtain to stow his bags in the counselor area. He’s on a top bunk - unexpected - but maybe because Koa and Sylvan are, like, 40 and they can’t climb shit.

“Hey, nice to see you, too,” Pablo greets, giving Weston a quick hug.

It takes Pablo saying what he does to let Weston realize he hasn’t even bothered to say hey. Just blew past Pablo to put his shit away.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Weston asks. He and Pablo have texted a bit. He’s the only counselor Weston even feels like he knows a little bit. It’s nice to know that they’re in the same boat. They’re both around the same age - both assistant-counseling for the first time.

“Pretty good,” Pablo nods.

“So...what do we do now?” Weston asks.

“Go talk to the kids,” Pablo encourages. “Help them feel at ease. Be happy they’re here,”

It’s just the kind of direction Weston needs.

“Hey,” he sits down by a tall kid with a light brown dog. He checks the wall behind the kid, not seeing a name tag on the kid himself. “Corbin. Are you excited?”

And Weston’s one-hundred percent not expecting it when Corbin pinches him hard.

“Ouch. Okay. Backing off,” he says. But a tapping sound distracts him and he glances down. Corbin has an I-Pad and is touching the screen.

Weston looks at it long enough to read the already-typed message:

HAPPY TO BE HERE BUT NERVOUS. NERVOUS MAKES IT HARD TO CONTROL MY IMPULSES. NOT A BAD KID. PLEASE KNOW ME.

(God. Weston gets this kid so much it hurts. He remembers English class, his junior year of high school. When he’d literally written many of the same words, explaining he’s not a bad kid, he just had gaps -- things other kids just knew that he didn’t know. That he needed his teacher to know he wasn’t a bad kid… Luckily, she gave him a chance…)

“Hey. I really get that feeling. I’m Weston, by the way. One of your counselors. Your first time here?” he asks.

It takes time for Corbin to nod, and Weston remembers something about a body / mind disconnect.

“Yeah? Mine, too,” Weston confides. “But you wanna know something? I got this,” he grins, wanting Corbin to feel at ease. To feel safe with him.

A smile flickers across Corbin’s face.

“We could stick together, maybe? Since it’s our first time here?” Weston suggests.

Corbin grabs his arm hard in response.

“Yeah?” Weston says. “Sounds good to me, too.”

“Hey, Corbin!” a new voice calls out. And Weston glances up to see a kid in a fishing hat and an electric wheelchair. “Hey. I’m Jonah,” the kid introduces, extending a hand to Weston. “Corbin and I were both speakers at the NAU workshop in October.”

“What? No way. I’m sorry I missed that…” Weston said. “I was only there on the family day.”

“Oh, who’s your family?” Jonah asks, curious.

“Sarah Jensen? She’s my adoptive mom...” Weston says as Corbin’s fingers dig into his arm. Weston glances to his left. “You wanna know what helps me calm down? Counting to 20. You guys wanna count with me? In your head or out loud?” Weston asks.

He’s surprised when Jonah joins in immediately, taking turns counting with him.

Corbin’s grip hasn’t let up. 

“I know you’re not a bad kid,” Weston reassures.

Corbin makes a sound of acknowledgement.

\--

“Okay, everybody! I need you guys in the lobby here. We’re gonna do some icebreaker questions, and come up with some cabin rules...and...a song…” Koa tells them.

“I’m a writer,” Jonah enthuses. “I can totally do this.”

“I totally _can’t_ do this,” Weston shares with Corbin, grinning. “I’m a horrible singer.”

They share one fact about themselves, and Weston goes with that he likes basketball. 

“Did you guys know Sarah’s Weston’s mom?” Jonah asks.

“That blonde counselor in my sister’s cabin?” a quiet voice at Weston’s elbow asks. “No way. She must be, like, your sister? Right?” The name tag on the kid’s shirt reads _Jesse_.

“No, she actually adopted me. So, she _is_ my mom,” Weston shares.

“Oh! I’m adopted!” Nico yells, grinning.

“Awesome,” Weston says, offering a fist for Nico to bump.

Then he sits back as Koa and Jonah work on the song. 

Corbin starts rocking hard and sounding seriously upset, hands over his ears. Weston’s not sure what’s going on. Or what to do.

And Sylvan comes up to Corbin. “You want to go swing or something, buddy?” he asks.

In response, Corbin gets up and walks outside, Prim’s leash in one hand, Weston’s arm clutched with the other.

“I guess we’re going outside…” Weston says. And to Corbin, once they’re alone, he adds, “It’s okay to take a break. And it’s cool you know your limits. So let’s walk for a while. Look at some of the nature?”

Corbin bolts out onto the grass and then sits, all of a sudden. Weston has no choice but to sit, too.

“Yeah, this is a good spot,” Weston agrees, and they sit together. 

Corbin’s still upset, so Weston counts.

For both of them.


	8. Lost

It takes forever for Francesca’s cabin to make up their rules and song. And to finish moving in or whatever it is they have to do. Fran is starving, but when she checks the schedule by the door, there’s still more things on it before _supper - 6 PM._

Eating breakfast this morning feels like it happened a million years ago, and she hadn’t eaten any of the tacos Moms stopped for because she’d been too nervous to accidentally spill on herself. (Then, she’d wind up here looking like a baby…)

Moms talking to her about being careful when she ate didn’t help...so she just had chips and a little bit of water so that she could pee while she was there but not have to stop again on the super long drive.

Fran has her bag of snacks, but it feels rude to just take them out and start eating in front of people. Years of going to school at ABCC has made the rule stick in her head that if she doesn’t have enough of something to share with everybody, she shouldn’t bring it out at all.

Her stomach growls.

“Ooh… Someone’s hungry…” one of the counselors says, with a smile.

Fran ducks her head, but peeks out quickly to read the name tag: _BRIGHTON_ \- oh yeah - they’re the one that joked they’ll _Brighton_ up the Sunshine cabins. That was funny.

“Yeah, I didn’t have that much lunch…” Fran confides. “I was too nervous about spilling.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that here. If you spill, we’ll just help you get cleaned up. We have a washer and dryer, and we can take care of any clothes you need freshened up by the time you go home.”

Fran is like, mesmerized by Brighton’s bright lipstick and their braid and also their eye makeup. “Who taught you to do makeup?” Fran asks.

“Oh. Um… I mostly taught myself. My mom, probably, first, though.” Brighton tears open a bag of puffy Cheetos and offers it to Francesca, who digs in. 

“Thank you,” Fran says. “My moms made me wear it...before I was ready...but now I like it. My sisters got me a bunch of makeup for my birthday.”

“Nice!” Brighton says, like that fact really cheers them up.

“Yeah, only my sister said it was probably not a great idea to bring all of my new makeup to camp, so I only brought my plum tinted chapstick.” Fran says.

“Ah. Well, I’d love to see it,” Brighton encourages. “We can compare brands.”

“Okay,” Fran perks up a little.

\--

The perking up does not last very long, because then they have to go to the place called The Living Room - which really does look like a ginormous living room - and have an introduction, and camp rules, and take a camp picture.

Fran only half-listens to the counselors introducing themselves up front. Until they get to the ones from Sunshine cabins.

“My name is Sarah, and I’m fabulous at dancing, never wearing out shoes, and funny voices,” she says. 

Fran loves Sarah’s confidence.

“My name is Taylor,” says Fran’s other main counselor. “I love drawing cartoons, eating and playing with my dogs. I see we’ve got a few out in the crowd. Hey, dogs!”

Fran laughs. 

She also loves that Taylor’s here. It means there’s someone else Asian in this cabin other than her...and a grownup besides. Fran doesn’t get to hang out with many Asian grownups… Vice President Kamala Harris is the only person Fran even knows of that's Black and Indian like her. Even though that was back before Fran even knew she was Indian at all...now, it's' even better. The point is, seeing more people like her makes Fran feel less different. More like she belongs. Which was the entire point of coming here.

“My name is Olivia,” Olivia says, sounding a little nervous. “I’m good at...being awkward...um…”

“You’re good at helping people,” Fran calls out, not super loudly, because of the signs posted everywhere to keep volumes low out of respect.

“Thank you, Francesca. Okay. I’m good at helping people,” Olivia says. “And...I am good at...math? I guess?” 

Fran’s mouth falls open in shock. She was pretty sure that nobody with CP was good at math. Now, she’ll have to remember this so she can call Olivia with her math questions.

“And, last but not least, my name is Brighton. I love horses and helping people and learning to be a better ally.”

Fran’s brain clicks back months and months to when she first heard her Avoider friend, Levi, tell her about that word. What had he said? It was somebody on your side?

She doesn’t even realize it but Fran’s holding her breath as Taylor makes her way back to the group of them and sits down right by Francesca. “Hey. That’s Sarah’s kid,” Taylor points out. “Hey, Weston!”

Fran follows where Taylor’s pointing…and sees the guy waving, kind of sheepish...sees the bats tattooed behind his ear as he walks up. 

“That’s who caught me from tripping over myself,” Fran whispers. “At the workshop. I didn’t know him, so I didn’t like him touching me out of nowhere...but it was probably just so I wouldn’t smash my face…” she considers.

“That’s a safe assumption...but it makes sense you didn’t want anyone touching you without permission. Especially a stranger,” Taylor reassures.

Fran relaxes in time to hear Weston introduce himself after the three other counselors from the boys’ side of Sunshine cabins. He has one of his campers hanging onto his arm and seems totally fine about this.

“Hey, I’m Weston,” he greets with a big smile that changes his whole face. “I’m freaking amazing at basketball, eating and exploring.” He glances at the tablet that his camper is holding and typing on. “And this is Corbin. He says he doesn’t wanna be introduced. Oops. I’m sorry,” he apologizes to Corbin.

They go and sit down then.

Then two fancy people get up and talk about the rules of the camp. They both have R names - Roman and Rosa - and the rules are boring and nothing Fran would break anyways.

Finally, Roman is like, “Let’s go out and get our camp picture before supper, alright?”

\--

And it’s like Fran freezes.

She never used to have this reaction to pictures, but ever since some really private ones of Jesus and Mariana got shared by Moms and went all over the news, Fran has been nervous about this. Just recently at the end of school, her mortal enemy took a picture of her kissing Isabella on the cheek and sent it all around school.

When everybody else heads outside, Fran stays put.

“Fran?” Olivia asks, coming back for her. “Are you okay?”

“What if this gets out?” she asks, biting her lip.

“What do you mean?” Olivia asks. "It's only for the camp website, Fran... And, like, camp social media..."

“I mean, what if somebody finds out I’m here?” Fran worries. “My name is right here even, for anybody to read…”

“Somebody like who?” Olivia wonders.

“Like the news!” Fran protests, forgetting about the signs everywhere.

“Okay, hey, listen. I’m Rosa. Do you remember me? From the workshop? I spent a lot of time with your moms?”

“And you’re Mari’s person,” Fran remembers.

“Right. So, one of the rules of this camp is no photos if you don’t consent. Roman mentioned that earlier in his talk tonight. So, you do not have to be photographed if you don’t choose to be.”

And it’s like Fran unfreezes.

“I can walk with you to the dining hall,” Olivia asks. “We can wait there.”

“Okay…” Fran says, and breathes a sigh of relief.


	9. Together

Weston barely has a chance to breathe or gather his thoughts. The day just keeps happening, and he has to figure it out on the spot. He  _ can _ adapt, it’s not that. A lifetime in and out of foster care means he can definitely be a chameleon if he has to be. But his chameleonness is a last resort; it can’t be his resting state. Otherwise it fucks with his mental health.

But here, he doesn’t feel like he has much choice. He’s learning on the fly, and he’s gotta project a certain amount of confidence. For Corbin, yeah, but also for the other kids, and the rest of the staff, who are counting on him to know what the hell he’s doing.

By dinner, though, Corbin’s left to go home for the night. So has one of the campers from Sarah’s cabin, by the looks of things. There are 14 of them - eight counselors and six campers - at the Sunshine table. It’s long and definitely gives Weston cafeteria vibes.

Worse? He smelled the smoke coming off the grill before he even came in here.

It’s barbecue night.

Fuck him.

All the food’s on the table for easy access, and he follows Sarah’s lead, grabbing a chair next to her, and asking Jonah what he’d like.

“I’d like crab, but since they don’t have that...I guess a burger’s fine,” he jokes.

Weston smiles, and then makes sure Jonah’s burger is the way he needs it, before moving on. He’s working on Nico’s when Sarah whispers to him. “You and me. You can ask for something that’s not on the grill…”

“No, I don’t want it to look like I’m getting special treatment,” Weston whispers back.

Not soft enough, though, because one of Sarah’s campers, wearing a sloth bum bag and a whole dino backpack over her shoulders speaks up: “Accommodations aren’t actually special treatment. Peons just make us think they are.”

“Francesca, meet my son, Weston. Weston, meet my camper, Francesca,” Sarah introduces, as both she and Weston keep busy serving.

He can feel Fran’s eyes on him. “You must’ve had him when you were just a teenager, right?” she asks Sarah, matter of fact.

Sarah looks to Weston, letting him decide how much they say. 

“Actually... _ she _ adopted  _ me _ when  _ I _ was a teenager…” Weston says, finally sitting down, seeing everyone’s been served.

“I’m adopted, too,” Francesca says. “Well...half…one bio parent, one not-bio parent.”

Weston nods.

“Alright! Welcome to the dining hall! I am Rosa Martinez, your friendly office lady. I’m also in charge of camp songs. Now, my head feels a little funny when there’s a lot of noise, so I’m gonna ask if we can sing this song as quietly as we can. Repeat after me:  _ Everywhere we go _ …”

_ “Everywhere we go….”  _ (Weston’s shocked when the whole camp of about 50 kids and adults responds in a legit whisper… Beside Rosa, Weston recognizes Alexis, Sarah’s ex, signing as they sing.)

“People wanna know…” Rosa sings softly into the microphone.

“ _ People wanna know… _ ” the camp replies. (Weston grudgingly joins in. Sarah has a kickass voice, and he sounds like he swallowed a bird.)

“Who we are…” 

“ _ Who we are… _ ”

“So we tell them…”

“ _ So we tell them… _ ”

“We are Camp Bravery…”

“ _ We are Camp Bravery… _ ”

“Oh, we are all Camp Bravery…” 

“ _ Oh, we are all Camp Bravery… _ ”

How ya feeling, Camp Bravery?” Rosa whispers.

Weston is stunned when he hears the whispered chorus with a few people responding in ASL: “ _ We feel good… _ ”

Just like that, it’s back to eating. Weston’s got a pile of French fries and a ton of ketchup on his plate.

“Guess what?” Weston glances up to see one of Sarah’s campers has spoken again. Lexie, her name tag says. “There’s two families at this table. Me and Jesse. And you guys,” she says, proud.

“Are you guys twins?” Weston asks, seeing the resemblance.

“Yeah,” Lexie nods, still smiling. “People don’t really ask us that because we don’t look exactly the same, you know?”

“And probably because you’re boy / girl. My brother and sister are twins, too, and one of our other brothers didn’t even believe it for a long time,” Francesca adds, taking a bite of her cheeseburger. Weston had seen Brighton cutting it up for her like it was no big deal at all. So, now, she can eat it with a fork.

“How many siblings do you have?” Taylor, Sarah’s co-counselor asks.

“Five. All older,” Francesca shares.

“Holy sh--,” Weston says and then catches himself. “I mean holy…”

“Cow,” Francesca supplies. “I think you mean holy cow…”

“What about you, Jesse?” Pablo asks. “How many siblings?”

Jesse puts up one finger.

“Yeah, we have one younger brother, Seth. He’s five. He wanted to come to camp, but he can’t because he doesn’t have CP…” Lexie explains.

“You both have CP? Me, too,” Nico says.

“Me, too,” a camper named Giselle says.

“Uh… I don’t have CP, and I’m at camp,” Jonah pipes up.

“I don’t have...anything… Oh no. Should I leave?” a counselor named Brighton jokes, glancing around.

“Crap. You’re right. Let me get my stuff. I’ll go, too,” Taylor says, standing up.

“Taxi!” Sylvan calls, and everybody laughs again.

And Weston gets that they’re kidding. But the whole turn the conversation took, it just makes Weston feel like what the hell is he even doing here?

“No!” Lexie laughs. “I just mean, it's for  _ kids _ with disabilities.”

Weston half listens as Brighton, Jonah, and Francesca get involved in a deep conversation about Harry Potter. Jesse listens on the fringes. 

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you...you did really well today with being tuned into what Corbin needed…” Sylvan says, sitting down near Weston.

“Yeah, so well he’s not even here…” Weston mutters, his spine stiffening.

“He, Dia and some of the other campers are only here during the day. They spend evenings at home, and come back in the morning,” Sarah explains.

“Oh,” Weston nods.

“You’ve got good instincts,” Sylvan says. “Keep it up.” 

For reasons Weston can’t articulate, he wants to punch Sylvan right now. Hard enough to bruise Weston’s own knuckles. But he knows that would definitely get him fired, plus it would probably scare the shit out of the kids.

“Hang out with me here when everybody clears out?” Sarah asks.

“What about my cabin?” Weston asks. 

“They’ll be okay for a few minutes. They have enough safe adults.” Sarah reassures.

Once the dining hall is empty, Sarah urges simply, “Come with me,” and makes her way to the kitchen. “Hey, Nancy,” she greets one of the camp cooks. “I was wondering if you had any leftover hot dogs. Maybe ones that you refrigerated?”

“You know we do. Always make extra in case anybody needs to roast ‘em over a campfire. How many do you need?”

“Two would be great,” Sarah says. Weston stays quiet beside her, his spine still stiff from earlier. Sarah says thanks and they go back to the table, which still has food on it. Weston swipes a pickle and a slice of brownie.

“Breathe,” Sarah says gently. 

And he tries, but all he can smell is barbecue smoke and it makes him aware of every damn inch of his body.

“You can eat,” Sarah urges, and finally Weston wolfs down the two hot dogs, the pickle and the brownie. Sarah offers him a carton of milk and he drinks that, too.

“I should go…” Weston says. “It’s the camp tour.”

“Stun, you’ve been up here before with me. You know where everything is. It’s okay to take your time. I know it’s different here...but it’s still you and me…” she confides, turning her head slightly so he can see the bats behind her ear.

His fingers find his own, though he can’t see them. “Are mine…?”

“Safe and sound,” Sarah reassures. “You and me and the frickin’ bats…” 

Weston returns her smile, though his is shaky: “You and me and the frickin’ bats.”


	10. Armor

Sarah knows she’s leading the large group discussion at 7:30, but she also knows Weston is her priority. He’s managed to eat his hot dogs and his brownie.

“I’m okay now,” he says. “Thanks.”

Something about the way he flashes that smile has her double-checking. “Are you sure? You know you don’t _ have _ to be fine…”

“...And yet...I am…” he jokes. “Hot dogs cure everything, didn’t you know? And brownies take care of the rest.”

“So, I’ve heard. I’m headed over to The Living Room for LGD,” she says. “You wanna come?” She drops her voice. “I’d like to stay near you, in case you need me.”

“Right,” he says back, quiet. Then, he raises his voice back to his usual volume and adds. “You know you could just call it a large group discussion. LGD isn’t a thing,” he quips.

“Okay, but it could be. Right? If we just start talking about it like it’s a thing, the kids will pick it up,” Sarah suggests easily.

“No, they won’t,” Weston objects, laughing. 

“Yes, they will. It’s how slang works,” Sarah insists, laughing. “I was this age myself once.”

“Yeah, but then, you know... slang’s not...like, intentional. You can’t force it. It just  _ happens _ . That’s what makes it a thing. If it happens naturally.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. And I saw that subtle reminder that we don’t force. Awesome,” she offers a hand and he high-fives her.

“I  _ am _ pretty awesome,” he says. 

She watches as Weston settles into a chair while Brighton, Taylor and Sylvan all join Sarah to work out which songs they’ll lead. They easily decide on the most loved ones. 

\--

The songs are a hit, and singing is a major stress relief for Sarah (and she suspects, for the rest of the music team, too.)

But now it’s time for the real stuff.

“Did you know?” Sarah says, putting her microphone back and settling in “that when I was little, the first thing I thought about my disability was that it made me stuck?”

“No…” came a chorus of voices.

“It’s true. Have any of you felt that way? You don’t have to answer out loud. It’s okay to think your answer in your head, if you’d rather. The thing is, I didn’t know then...that my disability was my superpower.”

Sarah looks all the kids in the eye in turn. Counselors, too. She takes the opportunity to casually check on Weston, who is listening and sitting beside some older kids from Full Moon cabins. He nods at her.

“Now, not everybody feels this way. And that’s okay. There are some disabilities that threaten our lives, our health and our safety. And there are some things about disability that can be really hard. But one thing disability has taught me is how to adapt. Who knows what it means to adapt?”

Hands go up around the room. Sarah calls on Jonah, who she knows has a concise, easy to follow definition. “Figuring out how to do stuff in a way that works for us.”

“Right,” Sarah says. “Who else has a suggestion for super powers your disability gives you?”

“Bravery,” Giselle offers. “It makes me brave because I have to be every day.”

“Good one!” Sarah praises. “What else?”

“Food!” Nico calls out from Weston’s cabin.

“Okay… Interesting! Tell us more, Nico. How is food your superpower?”

“I love food,” he says.

“I see,” Sarah answers. “Is that something your disability gave you?”

“Yeah. Because I’m me. And CP is me, and I love food,” Nico explains.

“Ah, so it all goes together,” Sarah nods. “Francesca, I see you waiting patiently there. What superpower does your disability give you?”

“Accommodationing friends,” she says, a little unsure. “Like...my friends and I always talk about what we need and how to be there for each other, and it’s like, easy? But it’s not easy for other people.”

“Right. It’s not easy for our parents,” an older camper calls out.

“Exactly!” Fran shares.

It’s at that moment that Sarah notices Weston - the way his body jerks as if he’s gotten a mild shock. How he whispers something to Pablo, stands and excuses himself.

“I need to live my lesson and adapt on the fly here. Can someone else with superpowers take over?”

“Sure,” Koa says. “Now this is a great real-life example of how seamlessly we can adapt. Sarah asked for someone to take over, and I stepped in. No big deal, right? Because we, what? We  _ help _ each other...”

Sarah hears Koa’s voice trail off as she follows Weston outside and cruises down the sidewalk until she’s beside him. He takes her hand and keeps going.

Sarah’s quiet. So is Weston, but she can see that his jaw is tense.

Finally, he can speak.

“Some fucking person in there...called me Wes…” he admits, shuddering. “It was a fucking counselor. From the fucking Full Moon cabins. Nobody fucking calls me that. Nobody except that asshole...” he trails off. 

Sarah just listens. “Did you want to tell me more?” she asks eventually.

“He fucking loved that song  _ Like a G6 _ ? Remember that? From back in the day? He said it was his song… He played it all the fucking time…”

Sarah does remember. It was the trigger Stun just brought up before they left. The one that had him taking her car and inadvertently crashing into the mailbox. It was that song. On the radio. It took him three months in counseling to tell her about it - to even start trusting her again.

“And the fucking barbecue…” Weston admits. “The smells is fucking everywhere. It’s in my fucking clothes. In my skin.”

Sarah remembers a little further back. When Weston told her, months after he moved in, that May and June were tough. After he’d snapped at her when she unwittingly decided on a beautiful spring day to grill out. 

_ “You don’t even know how! You’re fucking ruining everything!”  _ he had screamed at her.

“Even back when we first met you hated grilling…” Sarah realizes. “We had a cookout at The Center. You were eight. And you were just pale and withdrawn. Soon, you were getting sick. I tried to help, but you wouldn’t let me close enough…”

“You’re close enough now…” he tells her. “To help.”

“What do you need?” Sarah asks. “Do you know?”

“To get out of these fucking clothes! But I have to fucking wear them! It’s the first day...so I have to wear this fucking shirt!”

“Listen. You do not have to wear this fucking shirt, okay? You don’t. I’m gonna stop by the canteen.”

She does. The canteen is a little kid’s dream - let’s be honest - it’s Sarah’s too. The small building stocked with candy, chips and even ice cream treats and sodas. Lucky for them, it’s also stocked with camp shirts.

Taking out her set of camp keys, she unlocks the door. 

“You’re  _ breaking into the canteen _ …” Weston whispers, shocked. “You should’ve given me a heads-up! I’ll be the lookout. Actually, hold on. I’m better at this than you… Come on, I had a misspent youth! Let me do it! Whatever it is you’re doing!”

“No,” Sarah says, matter of fact. “It’s you and me. And I’m your safe adult. “I am not breaking in,” she stops short to explain. “I have money. That I will leave here, with a note, so I’m accountable. I’m buying you a new staff shirt.”

“I already have this one…” he says.

“This one is triggering you,” she answers, and makes her way inside where she picks out an adult medium staff shirt and leaves a $20 on the counter with a note that reads who she is and what she bought.

“So, I can wear this?” he asks. 

“You can do one better, and take a shower now if you want. Then put on the new shirt, and fresh clothes. That way you won’t have to deal with the triggering smell. I’ll hang out here and wait for you.” Sarah tells him, setting her brakes outside the Sunshine boys cabin. “Take your time.”

\--

Sarah waits and updates him periodically via the open windows, high in the cabins, that she’s still here.

Finally, he comes out. His hair is wet but freshly styled, and he looks steadier. He hands Sarah his string backpack, which she can guess has his other clothes in it.

“We’re gonna make sure these are good as new for you,” Sarah promises. “You can wait outside the door, if you’d rather,” she encourages stopping by their laundry building.

She pulls up to the front loading washer and is surprised to see Weston beside her.

“You don’t have to do this…” he protests.

“You’re not wearing a smoky shirt the rest of today and again at the end of the week. It’s not safe. Now, I’ll throw this in with some Oxy Clean and Tide, just like at home, so it smells like what you’re used to.

She puts his clothes and the bag in to wash and starts the cycle.

“Are you going to be okay to come back to discussion? Or no? Do you need to talk more?” Sarah asks.

“Just...thank you. And I think I’ll be cool if I don’t have to sit by whoever that was,” Weston manages, scuffing a toe of his shoe in the dirt.

“Yeah, maybe make a point to sit with the Sunshine crew this time? I know it was an honest mistake, and it’s okay to make those. I just want you to be taken care of,” Sarah says.

“Okay. You’ll check on it? So they don’t get all gross and shit?” Weston asks and it takes Sarah a second to realize he means the laundry. His clothes. “Or I can…”

“I’ll swing by after this, and make sure to move your clothes to the dryer,” Sarah promises.

“Okay,” he nods. “Love you,” he says, pausing at the back door to The Living Room.

“I’ve got you. I love you. Thank you for trusting me,” Sarah tells him. 

Then, they both go inside in tandem.


	11. Hogwarts

It’s 8:30 when they finally get done talking about superpowers. It takes Fran the longest to follow everybody to the canteen, where all the snacks are. Luckily, she has her dino pack, but she really would like some other snacks. Too bad Moms didn’t give her any money for that. She’s just now noticing Jesse, Lexie’s twin, walking next to her. 

Their walk is kind of the same.

They don’t talk, and that’s fine.

When they finally make it to the canteen, Taylor’s inside it singing a song:

_ “I just got a Post-It! I just got a Post-It! I just got a Post-It! Wonder who it’s from? _ ” she sings, like this is an old episode of Blues Clues. “ _ Oh, look, it’s from Sarah _ !” she keeps going until she finishes, “ _ She just bought a shirt. _ ”

Francesca gets comfy on the grass and takes off her dino backpack. She unzips his mouth and digs inside, pulling out some Nutter Butters and her Mountain Dew.

Pretty soon, Jonah and his dog, Kieran, join them. Jonah gets right out of his wheelchair and sits on the grass, same as Fran. His dog, Kieran, reminds Fran of Pearl’s old service dog, Gracie. He is the same color.

“My brother has a service dog, too. And my friend does. My brother’s is a lab-beagle mix. My friend’s is a pug. But she used to have a dog kinda like yours. Can I take his picture, so I can show her?” Fran asks.

“Sure!” Jonah agrees, and he even poses with Kieran for the picture.

“Thanks,” Fran says. “Want a Nutter Butter?”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” he says.

They eat in silence for a while, and then Fran says: “...I remember you. You’re the one who emailed those questions during the workshop about if our parents or anyone ever hurt us.”

“Yeah, that was me,” Jonah says, serious now.

“Did you read the answers?” Fran wonders, feeling nervous. What would Jonah say if he knew the truth about what Moms were like? Does Jonah watch the news? He seems like he might...

“No, they weren’t for me to read. They were for your parents,” Jonah answers, matter of fact.

“Oh. Sometimes, it’s like living with real live Dursleys, right?” Francesca asks, crunching on a cookie.

“This place is basically Hogwarts,” Jonah says, relaxing back on his arms. 

“The canteen is Honeydukes!” Taylor calls. “I’m loving this analogy, Jonah!”

“I would love to get my letter for it, like they do. And get to stay here for a whole academic year, and go home for just a little time. I mean, I love my mom, but…” Jonah sighs.

Giselle comes up then. She has an ice cream cone she’s licking. Fran is super jealous. It’s the kind with chocolate on top and nuts. And that really good fudge in the bottom of the cone.

“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Camp isn’t Hogwarts.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Jonah explains patiently. “Metaphorically, it is. It's where we can come to be ourselves, fully and completely. Because everybody else is a wizard, too.”

“Or a witch,” Francesca adds. She sees Jesse sit down nearby.

He smiles.

Just then, Brighton sings in a deep voice, “ _ Welcooomeee all of you to Hogwarts _ !”

They all crack up, even though Francesca doesn’t know the song. Brighton’s the most hilarious of all their counselors. 

“You’ve read the whole series, right?” Jonah asks, when he gets his breath back. “Jesse, you have?” he checks, seeing Jesse nod.

“I just finished  Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix ,” Fran explains. “I got it for my birthday, and I read most of it when I survived a blizzard a couple months ago.”

“We’re in California,” Jonah says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blizzard, and especially not in April…”

“Yeah, but I wasn't in California, I was in Minnesota. Where two of my friends live,” Francesca explains.

Jesse raises his eyebrow at Fran’s cookies and she nods, pushing a package of Chips Ahoy toward him.

“That explains it. Are you going to finish them?” Jonah asks.

“I don’t have the rest yet,” Fran sighs. 

“The library here does. We can read them together during free time. This is my fifth year here. I basically know where everything is,” Jonah tells her easily. 

“Here, Fran,” Nico walks over with his crutches that practically glow green in the dark. He drops a wrapped strawberry shortcake bar next to her. “That’s yours. Tag! You’re it!” he giggles and makes his way away from her.

“What? We’re not playing tag!” Fran exclaims, laughing.

“It looks like you are,” Jonah points out, gesturing with his cookie.

“I’ll watch your stuff,” Jesse offers.

“Thanks,” Fran says and stands up, laughing. Nico can’t stop laughing either. “You come back here!” she says, chasing him. “Come here, so I can tag you!”

When they chase each other, it’s the slowest game of tag Fran has ever played, but also the most fair, because she can’t really run. But neither can Nico. So, it’s even.

Just then, Nico reaches out to tag her with a crutch. She feels the rubber of it touch her arm super lightly so it doesn’t knock her off balance. “You’re it again! You’re double-it!”

“Double-it isn’t a thing!” Fran says, breathless.

“It is! I made it up!” Nico giggles.

“No fair! You have abnormally long arms!” Fran complains, but she’s still laughing.

“You mean, I have  _ awesomely _ long arms!” Nico corrects. “Hey, Sarah! My superpower is my long arms!” he waves with a crutch to where Sarah’s sitting off to the side. She’s in the grass, too, talking to Weston and Koa.

“Amazing!” Sarah calls back.

“Just like Inspector Gadget,” Koa says smiling, but Fran has no idea who that is. Must be an ancient people thing.

“Fran, climb on!” Jonah whispers, and Francesca turns to see Jonah’s back in his chair. “We can get him!”

“Yes! I’ll buckle us in!” Fran decides, once she’s safely on Jonah’s lap.

“Hey, Nico!” Jonah calls.

“I’m not gonna be double-it much longer!” Fran says with a fake-evil laugh.

“Oh no!” Nico shrieks, laughing “Counselor! I need lift off!”

“I’ve got you,” Pablo says, coming up to Nico. “Can I pick you up? Can we chase them?”

“Yes!” Nico cheers.

Francesca feels the wind blowing through her hair and Jonah laughing as she leans against him. This is the fastest she has ever gone.

She looks behind them. Sylvan is pushing Lexie, and Brighton pushing Giselle. It’s just a line of people in wheelchairs chasing each other, with Pablo and Nico running after them.

Everyone basically forgets Fran is double-it.

It wouldn’t be this way at home, she knows. Brandon, or Jude or Mom would make sure no one forgot that Fran lost the game. No one would have helped her like Jonah did.

Fran realizes as Jonah drives them back that she always wanted to play with Nico this way, but Moms didn’t allow it. Because they didn’t let she and Nico play together. The only reason she and Giselle could is because Jesus knows Mrs. Smith so well.

They finally come back to the spot where Jesse is still guarding Fran’s backpack and her ice cream. “No one touched it,” he offers in a soft voice.

“Thanks,” she says.

Jesse gets up then, and walks toward Lexie. She and Giselle have basically been talking to Olivia on and off since camp started.

Fran licks her strawberry shortcake ice cream bar and then thinks twice and digs in her bag. “You like Golden Grahams?” she asks Nico.

“I like every food,” he tells her, and she offers the box. “Here. Just don’t eat all of them, please.”

“I’ll take one handful,” Nico tells her seriously, and she nods.

“I’m worried.” Fran glances at Olivia talking to Giselle and Lexie. 

“About what?” Jonah asks, accepting the Golden Grahams from Fran once Nico returned them.

“That my bestie and my favorite counselor are going to love hanging out and forget all about me,” Fran admits. There’s so much more that worries her, but this is a place to start.

“I won’t,” Jonah promises.

“I won’t either. I’ll always bring you ice cream,” Nico says, sliding closer to Fran.

“You don’t have to give me food to be my friend,” Fran says.

“Okay but if I wanted to…” Nico decides. “Then, I probably could, right?”

“Yeah,” Fran nods. “You could. Thanks,” she says. “For not forgetting me.”


	12. Landing

With everyone back in the cabin and with Weston in a shirt that doesn’t stink, he’s feeling better - though he’s wishing like hell he ate that pickle with everything else in the dining hall.

It sort of helped that Koa took some time to talk with both him and Sarah, to see if he needed anything and if he could help. Weston just managed to tell Koa to give him space - and with Sarah there - that his bed and his shit needed to be respected. No one was allowed to touch it except him. 

Koa had agreed and said he’d make sure to remind Sylvan and Pablo of this in a general way, so Weston wasn’t feeling like he needed things to be some unreasonable way. (But what had Francesca, Sarah’s camper, said? Peons just  _ made _ him believe his shit was unreasonable?) She may be just a kid, but she’s wise. Weston decides to take her advice, at least in his own mind, and try not to worry about what they all might think.

Before they go back to the cabins, Sarah makes a final stop at the laundry building for his clothes.

“Looks good,” she says, and he comes in beside her.

“Can I take it? Like, is that allowed?” he asks.

“Yes, they’re your belongings. You can take them,” Sarah tells him. So, he shoves his original shirt and shorts in the bag without folding them and puts it on his back.

“Did you want a snack from the canteen?” she asks as they pass it.

“It’s closed,” he points out. “Are you gonna break in again if I say yes?” he asks, a slow smile spreading.

“No, I’m going to give you this bag of Cool Ranch Doritos that I bought legally from the canteen,” she says, handing it to him. 

Weston opens it, on the spot, and pours most of it directly into his mouth. “Mmm. Thanks.”

“Always,” she says. 

They’re approaching the Sunshine cabins, so they’re about to have to go their separate ways. Quickly, he bends down and pulls a lilac off a bush nearby. “Here.”

“Thank you so much,” she gestures him down near her height. “The flowers and stuff you see around here, though? That actually belongs to the camp. So it’s not really for us to pick.”

“It’s nature. People can’t claim nature…” Weston points out. 

“Just a heads up for next time,” she says. Then, she smells the lilac. “You know I love how thoughtful you are.”

“Whatever,” he shrugs. “Bye. And thanks again.”

“Always,” she says. “You can always come to me.” Then, she disappears next door. The lilac’s still in her hand.

As he walks in the cabin a memory nudges him. Picking the lilac reminded him of being around his campers’ age. Ten or something. He’d known Sarah still only through her job at The Center. He’d heard it was her birthday, and he’d gone outside in front of the building and pulled up a whole damn sunflower just growing there and gave it to her, giant stem and all.

She has a picture of it framed on her bedroom wall, still.

Sarah never told him the thing she did about the lilac. Even though the sunflower probably belonged to The Center. At ten, he couldn’t have handled knowing he messed up.

Now, though? He gets that mistakes are a part of life. It’s not easy to make them. But Sarah’s there to help when he does.

“Hey, Weston!” Nico calls out. “We’re doing worksheets!”

“Oh yeah?” Weston asks, shifting into work mode again. He’s not off-duty yet. (He’s not off-duty ever, except like two hours during the day. None of those two hours happen this first day…)

Weston joins Nico at the large table in the lobby. Sylvan’s across the table beside Jonah and Pablo’s next to Jesse. The campers are all in pajamas - sleep tees and pajama pants.

He glances down at the sheet in front of Nico. 

**Would you like your counselors to know your disability? Yes or no. If yes, write it below.**

**Is there anything else about you that you think we should know? (Fears? Insecurities?)**

“You guys already know my disability,” Nico says. “It’s CP.”

“Do you wanna write it down here?” Weston asks. And Nico does.

“Now...only if you want to…” Koa says. “Would you like to share anything else with us that you think we should know? What are you scared of?”

“I’m scared of getting lost,” Nico whispers to Weston.

“Do you want me to write that down so all of us can know? And help make sure you’re never lost?”

Nico nods.

“Anything else that makes you feel kind of nervous?” Weston checks.

“Water. And being away from my family…” Nico says.

“Water...like swimming?” Weston asks.

Nico nods. “And being away from my family. Like camp.”

“Right.”

None of the kids say much. They look exhausted. They climb into bed and Koa hits the lights, but the bathroom lights stay on. Jonah’s nurse, Esme, comes in once Jonah’s in bed, and just sits right near him.

“Come on,” Pablo invites softly, holding back the curtain.

\--

It’s Weston’s first time in counselor’s quarters with all the other guys. The first thing Koa says is, “All right. We’ve almost gotten through the first day,” in a whisper. “I just need to remind you that we respect each other’s space and belongings just as much as we do the kids’. Explicit, enthusiastic consent, or assume the answer’s a hard no.”

“Did something happen?” Pablo asks.

“Not yet,” Koa answers. “And as long as we respect each other and our stuff, we’ll be good. Understood?”

“Understood,” Sylvan says.

“Now, let's go over these,” Koa says softly, with a small stack of papers. “I’m gonna pass these out. Read them to yourselves. Do not write anything down about what you read. It’s one of the reasons why our numbers are kept so low per cabin. So, we have no trouble remembering our campers.”

Weston’s sprawled on his top bunk, using his bag full of snacks as a pillow. He unzips it and finds a note from Sarah:

_ There’s more where this came from. If you run out, please let me know. You can do this. Love, Sarah. _

The very first thing he finds is a bag of dill pickle chips. Weston smiles, thinking of the pickle he left behind on his plate in the dining hall. He tears open the bag and starts eating as he waits for the papers to be passed to him.

“Counselor!” Nico yells.

Weston vaults down from his top bunk and is out in the cabin in a few seconds. At Nico’s side. “What’s up?”

“Jesse,” he whispers.

Weston squints in the dark and manages to make out Jesse, just a small shape huddled under blankets.

“Hey. It’s Weston,” he says. “What’s up?” He can hear that Jesse’s sniffling quietly. “I wanna help.”

“Carrot Breath…” Jesse rasps.

Weston’s super self-conscious and breathes into his own hand to check if his dill pickle chip breath is as rank as Jesse says. “Dude. Sorry.”

“No...my rabbit…” Jesse manages. “I was gonna get him out of my stuff before bed...and I didn’t...and now it’s too dark…”

“Oh, here. I can find him.”

But minutes later, with the help of a flashlight, there’s no sign of Jesse’s stuffed rabbit.

“Can you please check at Lexie’s cabin? She has a rabbit, too. And sometimes she trades me. Or sometimes they play together,” Jesse whispers in Weston’s ear. “Please find him?” Jesse begs.

“No problem,” Weston says. (He sure as hell hopes it’s no problem…)

Weston sticks his head back behind the curtain before he goes, minding the sign that’s on both doors, reminding the kids not to leave without telling a counselor first.

“Hey, I gotta go find Jesse’s rabbit. He thinks it might be next door,” Weston tells them.

“Alright,” Koa says. “Thanks for the update. We’ll be here.”

\--

Weston slips out of the cabin and into the dark. He can hear the buzz of insects as he takes a few steps to the Sunshine girls cabin. He makes sure he’s closest to the counselor’s end when he knocks, so he won’t scare the kids.

“Hey. It’s Weston,” he offers in a low voice. 

In a minute or two, Sarah’s at the door. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah. Jesse’s missing his rabbit. He’s wondering if Carrot Breath is over here? Maybe chilling with Lexie’s rabbit or something?”

“Oh, let me check… Wait right here. I’ll come back,” Sarah says. As she turns away, he can see his lilac poking out of a pocket in her bag and smiles.

Weston waits, listening to the nighttime sounds around him for endless minutes until Sarah comes back, a small stuffed rabbit on her lap. Weston can’t make out the color.

“She said Jesse forgot to pack it, so she grabbed both just in case,” Sarah passes along.

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver,” he says, taking it and heading back to his own cabin.

“You’re worth saving,” Sarah reminds him. “I love you.”

“I got the chips. And the note. We can talk on breaks, right?” Weston asks.

“You’d better believe it,” she says.

He raises a hand to wave at her and then it’s back to his cabin.

\--

“Hey. Look who I found,” Weston whispers coming up next to Jesse’s bed.

“She took him, didn’t she?” Jesse asks.

“Lexie said you forgot to pack him, so she grabbed both,” Weston passes along.

It’s quiet so long, Weston wonders if Jesse’s fallen asleep. “I left him at home on purpose...or I thought I did. I’m sorry for lying. I just...I’m the youngest here...and I didn’t want to be a baby…”

“Hey...when I was a kid. My best friend in the world was this… Well, I called him my baby. ‘Cause I was a baby, pretty much...” Weston confides. “He looked just like me. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Matching clothes.”

“What was his name?” Jesse asks, sounding skeptical.

“His name was Chevy-Katie,” Weston offers seriously.

Jesse laughs softly. “Like the car and the girls’ name combined?”

“I guess. My point is...three things. One, I know what it’s like to lose your best friend. Two, we don’t make fun of each other here. Like the rules say, right?”

“What’s the third thing?” Jesse asks, cuddling Carrot Breath.

“The third thing is...I know what it’s like to lose a best friend like you’ve got there. So you can bet your butt that I’ll do whatever I can to be sure you guys don’t lose each other.”

“You lost him. Didn’t you?” Jesse says, matter of fact. “You lost Chevy-Katie?”

“I did,” Weston nods.

Jesse thinks for a while, and then Weston’s surprised as he feels the rabbit being pressed into his hands. “You can have Carrot Breath. For tonight.”

“No. He’s yours. Jesse. You guys get your sleep. You had a big day. You can always call for us, or have Nico get us if you need something, alright? You won’t be in trouble.”

“Okay,” Jesse says. “Will you stay here? Just until I fall asleep? 

“Sure,” Weston nods. 

He stays crouched next to the bed until Jesse’s breathing evens out.

Then, he heads back behind the curtain.


	13. Stories

“Alright, so the children are sleeping,” Taylor announces, once Sarah comes back from answering the door. She bounds onto a top bunk. “Let’s do this thingy.”

“All the campers filled out forms about anything else they wanted us to know. Plus fears or insecurities,” Sarah says in a whisper. “So, I’m gonna hand these out and we’re all going to look at them, so we get to know our campers better.”

“You’re so in your element right now…” Olivia observes. “I’m always so nervous doing this stuff and it, like, gives you life.”

“It does,” Sarah nods. She turns around behind her to take out her own journal and flips it open. 

A pamphlet falls out onto the floor.

“What is this?” Brighton asks.  _ “SO, YOU’RE A MOM…?  _ This is so 90s… I love it.” They pick up the pamphlet and hand it back to Sarah.

“That one is actually from 2015. But I did start getting them in the late 80s. They’re from my aunt. It’s kinda her thing.” 

Sarah tucks the pamphlet back into her bag, and makes sure her lilac from Weston is safely inside her bag, too, pressed between pages in a book. (She’s already taken a picture of it, but she wants to try and keep it if she can.)

Sarah glances over the papers she holds;

**DIA:**

_ I AM AUTISTIC. _

_ I FEAR NOT BEING UNDERSTOOD AND BEING LEFT OUT. _

Sarah checks her journal. Dia, who loves science and art. Who’s the oldest in their cabin but doesn’t spend nights here. She makes a point to find ways to naturally include Dia and to make sure she has time to express herself, and be understood.

Writing about campers’ personal information - identifying characteristics, diagnoses, anecdotes featuring them, is against policy. But making general notes is okay.

**GISELLE:**

_ I don’t want you to know and I’m afraid of not having friends. _

**LEXIE:**

_ I have CP. I am afraid of not being with my brother and having surgery and disappointing my mom. _

**FRANCESCA:**

_ You probably already know everything about me. I’m scared of saying too much. I’m scared of not knowing things. _

Sarah lets out a breath, reading Fran’s paper. She remembers the trouble she, specifically, had with Francesca’s parents at the workshop. The answers they gave to Fran and her other siblings’ responses. How cold they were.

How they ended up in Rosa’s office rewriting everything or at risk of going home early.

Sarah tries to imagine it...growing up in the public eye. Having your entire life documented in some form. (Since Francesca had been born in the years between her older brother going missing and returning, her birth was big news…)

It’s no wonder Francesca worries about revealing too much. For public reasons as much as for fear of how her parents might react.

Fran has no control over the story told about her.

\--

Everyone’s lives are made up of stories. Sarah’s life is no different. 

Many different narratives have tried to take root, but over time, Sarah picked and chose, keeping the ones that helped her cope, and throwing out the rest.

Jolene’s stories are Sarah’s favorites. It fits, because, aside from Weston, Jolene is Sarah’s favorite person.

Her mom’s younger sister, and only older than Sarah by fifteen years, Jolene filled a gap in her life. All at once, she managed to be mother, sister, and best friend when Sarah desperately needed all three.

\--

The story goes that Mom and Sarah were going to visit Santa at the mall, just days before Christmas. (At four years old, her older brother, Stephen, had already been and decided he was terrified of the man in red.) But Sarah, almost three, had been so excited.

So, Dad stayed home with Stephen, and Mom took Sarah to the mall.

Mom’s told this story so many times it’s burned into Sarah’s brain. Each Christmas she brings out the picture - the one that was taken probably 10 minutes before her world completely changed - herself a toddler in a frilly red and green dress, having asked Santa for a doll who crawled, and fell and cried.

Her smile is huge and exuberant as she sits cuddled on St. Nick’s lap, as if they are old friends.

_ “He said I was good!” _ Sarah had announced to Mom.

\--

When they left the store, the weather had changed. Snow and ice. (Some call it the Christmas Coastal Storm, in Sarah’s immediate family, though, they call it “the accident.”) Mom got a head laceration - she still has the scar, a broken wrist that still hurts when it rains and a knee that’s never been the same.

It took time for Mom to get to see Sarah. And seeing her once was apparently all she could stand, at least in the early days. She brings up her pain each and every time she has it. She knows every time Mom’s wrist aches, every twinge her knee makes, and Sarah has listened every single Christmas to Mom’s emotional distress. 

They all listen, sympathetic.

And Sarah?

She’s the one who grew up unallowed to say “can’t.” It was the four-letter word that was forbidden in their home. When she’d been younger, Sarah had liked the positivity. Only as an adult could she recognize it as toxic.

It’s impossible now, in a cabin with Francesca Adams Foster not to think about Fran’s parents. The ones who wrote a tell-all blog about Fran’s older sister, who also survived a car wreck two years ago. And yes, it’s true, she asked her parents if they ever wrote about her. If they ever put it online. It’s true they said no, and she’s never found evidence of it, but it’s also true that there are other ways to damage your disabled child.

(There’s a reason Weston has only met her parents once. A reason they’ve never gone home for Christmas. Sarah can’t bear to see him witness her mom’s ‘grieving process.’ The picture and the stories, and both their injuries shared in detail. How Mom feels about it all.)

Since Sarah’s too young to remember it, Mom’s claimed it for herself.

\--

Jolene’s story centers Sarah. It’s the only one that does.

At seventeen, Jolene hadn’t been able to bring herself to see Sarah that first night. Still living at home with Sarah’s grandparents, Jolene got updates from them. Heard Sarah’s prognosis. Saw how they never visited her in the hospital again - and in later years - how they never made an effort to accommodate Sarah in their home, so she never really felt welcome there.

Jolene’s told the story so many times now, it’s like Sarah herself has the memory…she imagines it the way she sees it happening in her head:

Jolene visits for the first time on Christmas Day, a week after the accident. Sarah is in a full body cast. The look in her eyes haunts Jolene, but she sits close by and holds her hand. Germs are, for once, the least of her concern. Hospitals are dirty, but if something goes wrong, there are always decontamination showers. That thought gives her comfort, and makes her feel ashamed all at once. Her niece is here, mutely watching her, though Sarah's been talking since she was less than a year old. Now, it seems, she can't speak at all.

So, Jolene sits. She tries not to look at the brand new pink tricycle, the dress up clothes or the tee ball set Sandra and Sam have gotten for her. Jolene's not much of a singer, but it's so quiet in the pediatric intensive care unit that Jolene finds herself singing Sarah's favorite songs ( _ Tomorrow _ from Annie, and  _ You are My Sunshine) _ and some of Jolene's favorites ( _ Here Comes the Sun _ and  _ Good Day Sunshine _ by the Beatles.) Yes, sunshine is a major theme. Because optimism seems so far away, and is so very much needed. She stays eight hours a day, every day of winter break, her senior year.

It's in the middle of the third week that Sarah speaks for the first time Jolene can recall since the accident.

_ "Mama?" _

" _ Mama's not here. But Auntie Jolene's here _ ," she tries, praying that Sarah won't cry. " _ How can I help? Are you okay? _ "

" _ Stuck _ ," Sarah says, gesturing weakly to the cast.

_ "Yes, I see. I'm sorry you're stuck. Can I help?" _

_ "Take it off?"  _ Sarah asks, her chin trembling.

_ "I'm sorry. I can't take it off," _ Jolene says sadly.

_ "Why?" _

_ "Because it has to stay on for right now." _

Sarah sighs and closes her eyes. It is the most defeated Jolene has ever seen a toddler. That night, she goes home and pours all her nervous energy into creating something positive for Sarah.

Jolene arrives the next day, armed with her very first pamphlet. It reads: SO YOU'RE FEELING STUCK. Jolene is so proud, she could burst. She shows it to Sarah, and her little face lights up, at the picture of her own face.

_ "Me," _ Sarah whispers, smiling a little.

_ "That's right. You. This is a little book, all about you. Would you like to read it?" _

Sarah nods and opens the pamphlet to the first flap, with the picture of Sarah in her cast. Jolene explains that first, Sarah has to wear the cast. The next flap says Sarah will work very hard, and when Jolene opens the pamphlet all the way, there is a perfect hand-drawn illustration of a wheelchair.

_ "Then, you get one of these,"  _ Jolene says, trying to keep her tone light.

_ "For being good?"  _ Sarah asks, and it breaks Jolene's heart.

_ "For getting around," _ Jolene explains.

There is silence, and Sarah blinks slowly, like she's tired.  _ "Will you stay forever, Auntie Jolene?" _

_ "I'll stay as long as you want me to. I promise." _ Jolene kisses Sarah's hand, and watches, shocked, as Sarah falls asleep clutching the pamphlet.

\--

Every year since, on the anniversary of Sarah’s accident, Jolene’s given Sarah a pamphlet, hand-written and illustrated, according to Sarah’s concerns. (SO, YOU'RE FEELING STUCK was followed by ALL THE THINGS I CAN DO and HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS IN KINDERGARTEN. By December of kindergarten, her pamphlet was, by SO, YOU WANT TO BE A DANCER.)

Sharing a reference to Jolene tonight - to that first pamphlet - had been easy. But she should know by now that it leads to a lot of other memories...like Jolene’s almost-wedding.

It was 2013. Sarah was 25, and Jolene was struggling. An outsider in the family because of things she couldn’t help, much the same as Sarah was, Jolene’s mental health symptoms got worse under stress.

And when Sarah spent that night with Jolene? The night right before the wedding? They were worse.

Sarah knew better than to chastise or condescend. She knew better than to make it seem easy - to stop doing what Jolene couldn’t stop. So, Sarah just talked.

_ “You know that it's because of you that I am who I am, right? I'm more like you than anyone else in this family. You're easily my best friend. Easily." _

_ "That's nice of you to say, honey, but not necessary. I know girls your age have lots of friends." _

_ "Is everything okay?" _ Sarah remembers asking.

" _ You’re just as intuitive as you ever were... _ ” Jolene comments, her voice shaking. “ _ I'm not sure if this is what I should be doing, _ " she confesses. “ _ It’s not right to burden you with my stress, but I haven’t got anyone else… _ ”

Sarah remembers her aunts hands, cleaning, straightening, doing everything fervently. Even when they crawled into bed and tried to sleep.

_ "So…you're feeling stuck?" _ Sarah asks, a smile in her voice.  _ "Well…you'll be stuck for a while…but eventually…if you put the work in…you'll get anywhere you want to go…” _

_ "I know I've heard that somewhere before…" _ Jolene manages, as Sarah reaches over and squeezes her hand.

\--

“Is she okay?” Sarah asks lowly, gesturing to Fran’s paper as she speaks to Olivia. It’s common knowledge that Olivia has been in regular contact with Francesca over the last eight months.

“I know her parents haven’t been checking in with her for the past month or so…” Olivia admits. “She seems relieved by it.”

“Okay. Reminder. We need to be available for these kids. If any of them are by themselves during freetime, join them. Talk to them. They’re here for one week. So, let’s make it the best one possible.”

“Got it,” Brighton says. “How are we, though? Like, all of us? You know you don’t have to have superpowers to be loved here, right?” they ask.

“You...are so perceptive…” Sarah shakes her head and blinks back tears. “That is so my Kryptonite. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess?” Brighton says, sympathetic. “And you don’t. We love you, regardless.”

“Who wants some poetry to fall asleep to?” Taylor asks. “I’ve got an amazing book that I brought for just this reason…”

“Definitely,” Olivia chimes in. “I love your book selections.”

So, Sarah settles in and listens to Taylor’s gentle voice filling the dark.

It puts her right to sleep.

  
  



	14. Day

Francesca’s first morning at camp, someone turns on music way early.

School has been out for almost three weeks now, and Francesca’s gotten used to sleeping in. (Plus, she could not fall asleep at all last night, because she kept being super worried about Mariana. They usually ended up sleeping in the exact same bed just for safety. And what if Moms were home being super mean to Mari because Fran’s not even there? They were always worse when one of them was home by themselves.)

“Good day, sunshine!” Sarah sings, coming down the hall.

“Good day, sunshine!” Brighton echoes, following her.

“Good day, sunshine!” Taylor sings some different notes than everybody else, and it’s kind of off-key, but makes Fran laugh anyway.

“Time to get up, campers,” Olivia says quietly. “Up and dressed, please. We need to be at the dining hall in one hour.”

“Ugh…” Giselle moans.

“The most terrible news of my life!” Lexie complains, putting her stuffed rabbit over her eyes.

“I’m so glad Jesse got his rabbit back, aren’t you?” Giselle asks. “I know how that feels because I’ve lost toys before.”

“Yeah,” Lexie yawns.

Fran keeps busy, getting dressed, with her back turned to Giselle and Lexie. It doesn’t matter, because they’re still in bed anyways. Fran tries not to think about last night. The knock at the door, and Sarah coming back to look for Jesse’s rabbit.

For the first time in a long time, Fran had to magic carpet her feelings, so that no one would know she was crying. She didn’t know Sarah well enough to talk about this stuff. Plus, there were too many new people around who might wreck hers and Mariana’s privacy.

Instead of thinking about that, Fran focuses on putting on her Gryffindor tee shirt from Dominique. She adds her Gryffindor bracelet set from Pearl and a Gryffindor headband she bought just for herself. (Moms say headbands don’t count as doing her hair, but oh well, Moms aren’t here.)

She goes into the bathroom to do all that stuff. She sprays water on her hair and puts her gel in, too. She brushes all her baby hairs carefully, so they’re looking good and then adds her headband to keep the whole thing in.

But Fran’s not super satisfied with how it looks. Her hair does not like hot weather, and she’s going to be outside all day, pretty much. She probably should clip it back...except that she really wanted to wear her headband…

“What’s up?” Taylor asks.

“I need to style my hair different, but my hands are all full of gel…” Fran complains. She bites her lip. “Could you help me?”

“Trust me. Nothing would thrill me more. I could braid it back, maybe? Just so it’s away from your face?” Taylor asks.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking… You know… I’m Asian, too?” Fran offers shyly. “Half...but still…”

“Me, too,” Taylor confirms. 

“Are you the only Asian one in your family?” Fran asks.

“No. My sister is...and my dad is…” she shares. “Mom’s white. Why? Are you? The only Asian one in your family?”

“Kind of? My bio dad...I kinda just found him. And he’s Indian...like, from India. And...nobody else shares my bio dad...or my bio mom, actually.”

“Is that hard?” Taylor asks, hands expertly braiding, like she’s done this all her life.

“I didn’t think I fit in anywhere, until I found out who my bio dad was...and then I realized...I’m basically like Vice President Harris…”

“The best, right?” Taylor gushes. “She made me feel really seen, too.”

Before Fran knows it, she’s done, and then she has to remember to wash her face and brush her teeth and put deodorant on. She wonders if she should do lotion and sunscreen and bug spray...and then realizes Moms never actually stopped for bug spray.

“Francesca asked for help...like a boss…” Taylor announces, barging out of the bathroom to tell the others. “Her superpowers are getting stronger. I felt them...emanating from her head…”

From the bathroom, Fran blushes as the cheer rises up from outside the door.

“Way to go, Fran!” Sarah says, high fiving her when she walks out of the bathroom minutes later.

“Thanks,” Francesca says.

“Oh, awesome. Look at this, guys, we didn’t even plan it!” Olivia exclaims stopping side by side with Fran. It takes her a minute to realize what Olivia means. Then, Francesca sees Olivia’s wearing a bright yellow shirt with the cutest honey badger on the front with a scarf on. It’s sitting on the word: _Hufflepuff._

“Can we take a picture together?” Fran asks.

“I’ll take it,” Brighton offers. “I didn’t get the memo, or I would have worn my Hufflepuff shirt, too.”

Fran smiles as Brighton takes the picture. “I did bring another Harry Potter shirt,” she reassures. “We can match that day. Do you have any with Dumbledore quotes?”

“I don’t,” Brighton frowns, “But I do have one that says, _I SOLEMNLY SWEAR, I AM UP TO NO GOOD_.”

Fran giggles. Then she goes over to straighten her bed, and looks at Dia’s.

“We should make sure Dia doesn’t feel left out.” Fran says and leaves some Golden Oreos on her bed with a note:

_Can’t wait to see you in arts and crafts. Have a cookie if you want. Love, Francesca_

“Okay, now nobody take these. They’re for Dia,” Fran says seriously.

\--

Finally, they’re on their way to the dining hall.

“I noticed you leaving cookies for Dia," Sarah says, coming up next to Fran. “That was really thoughtful.”

“Yeah...I know how it feels to be left out…” Fran manages, a little breathless.

They sing a song about a moose while they wait to get into the dining hall, and then it’s finally time to go inside.

They sing the We Are Camp Bravery song, led by Rosa. And then it’s time to eat.

Scrambled eggs and home fries! Francesca never gets to eat this stuff at home! Only egg whites and granola and fruit. Having fried potatoes and actual eggs is like...delicious. Weston, Sarah’s son, ends up next to her. He squirts half the bottle of ketchup on his plate.

Francesca squirts the other half.

“Hey… Tomatoes are vegetables...they’re good for us, right?” Weston says, with a grin.

“Actually, they’re fruit. It’s a common misconception. Most of us don’t love the idea that we eat fruit sauce with our pasta…” Jonah shares.

“Ew…. Fruit sauce on pasta…” Lexie makes a sick face.

“Hey, look, I wore this shirt today,” Fran shows Jonah. 

He grins. “You’re a Gryffindor? I’m a Ravenclaw.”

“My sister’s a Ravenclaw,” Fran tells him.

“Ooh,” Giselle teases in a whisper. “You like him, I bet…”

“No, I don’t!” Fran complains. “Stop saying that.”

Just then, Rosa interrupts them again. Which is good, because Fran has eaten everything on her plate, and she’s stuffed.

“Next up, you’ll go to your first cabin elective. And a special announcement (please remember to celebrate this as quietly as you can), but… Thursday night… Our camptivity is...a talent show…” 

An excited squeak bursts out of Fran, and she covers her mouth. Luckily, other people are all whispering, too.

“Sign up sheets are here. Write down your name, and what your talent will be. We have spots for all the campers to participate if they want to. If not, that means you’ll get to see your counselors do some pretty awesome stuff Thursday night!”

Francesca is the first person in line.

She picks the 12th line, for luck, and writes:

_Francesca - Sunshine girls cabin - singing._


	15. Ride

Weston’s shocked that he slept as well as he did. He figured the noise from Jonah’s equipment might be hard to get used to - but turns out, it was just different enough to be kind of soothing.

They’ve eaten breakfast, and Nico is off-the-charts excited for horseback riding.

Weston’s just glad it’s an all-Sunshine elective, meaning Sarah will be where they can see each other. And not just for now, because they also have their second elective and lunch together, too. And that’s good. He hadn’t counted on being able to see her so much.

“I love horses. I get to ride every week,” Nico says, as Weston pushes him in his wheelchair. It matches his crutches - this bright green color. Almost lime.

“Yeah? What do I need to know?” Weston asks. “I’ve never been around horses before.”

“Oh. It’s easy. The most important thing is, keep your hand flat when you give them snacks, or they might accidentally bite your fingers.

“Well, I don’t have any food on me, so I think I’m good…” Weston says. “Are you gonna be in the talent show?”

“Sure! I’m going to play my harmonica!” Nico says.

“You have a harmonica?” Weston asks.

“Yeah,” Nico laughs. “Oh, there’s the horses!” Nico exclaims. “I love them so much!”

But Weston notices more than that. Corbin’s back, hedging by the fence, his mom and Sylvan nearby.

Nico takes over pushing himself to go talk to the horses, and Weston goes to Corbin. “Hey,” he says. “Glad to see you back.”

Corbin latches painfully onto Weston’s arm again.

“He’s been really nervous that you wouldn’t be here today,” Sylvan passes along. 

“Yeah, I’m getting that…” Weston says. He tacks a smile on the end of his statement, but he’s not actually feeling that nice today.

Big animals are intimidating as hell. But Corbin’s nervous enough. Weston’s gotta put him at ease somehow.

“You wanna tell me anything?” he asks, and then Weston waits as Corbin spells. When he’s finished, he taps the screen:

LOVE NATURE. 

HORSES STINK. 

DON’T LIKE HELMETS. 

WANT TO RIDE ANYWAY.

“We’ll figure this out,” Weston promises. “So you can ride. You do need a helmet, though, so you can ride safely.”

Corbin makes a loud, sudden sound dropping to sit next to Prim and bury his face in her fur. Most of the kids around him jump. And Weston sees Corbin cover his own ear with his free hand.

Weston goes down with him.

“Hey… It’s gonna be okay,” he says softly. “I know the horses really do stink. Literally. Right?”

Corbin still has his face buried in Prim’s fur.

“Guess what’s in my bathroom at home?” he asks conspiratorially. He pauses but doesn’t expect Corbin to acknowledge what he said before he continues, “We have this sign in our bathroom, and it’s like,  _ “Hey there sweet cheeks...have a nice poop.” _

By now, Corbin’s hands are in the grass, and he’s pulling up handfuls of it, kind of rhythmically.

“Okay!” Brighton says. “Let’s get started!” 

It turns out, they’ve spent their whole lives around horses and their confidence is kind of contagious. Weston knows that he’s gonna need to sit behind a kid - probably Corbin - and hold him steady on the horse. First, though, he’s got to figure out a way to get Corbin okay wearing a helmet.

Before he steps away, Weston stops near Sarah, “I can give you a lift…” he offers quietly, nodding at the big brown horse in front of them.

“Thanks for the offer, Weston, but Sylvan and I already talked about it. He’s agreed to help me out here.”

“Oh. Okay,” he says, feeling oddly out of place.

Then, he steps to the side with Corbin and a helmet. “This is what we’re talking about, I guess…” Weston says, holding out the all-black helmet. It looks kind of similar to a bike helmet, but boring. He offers it to Corbin, who swings it around by a strap.

“Okay. Careful…” he cautions. “Do you wanna just touch it? Get used to it first?”

Corbin flings it away from them into the grass.

“Okay. We can just watch for a while…” Weston says, picking up the helmet and setting it on his other side, away from Corbin. 

They watch one of the other counselors in Sunshine girls cabin, Olivia, ride with a camper named Giselle. Next Koa rides with Nico. Then Sarah rides with Lexie. Sarah’s on the horse with the custom saddle she needs, with a higher backrest, so she can keep her own balance and support Lexie, too. After that, Sylvan rides with Jonah. Their circle is careful and accommodates his breathing needs somehow. Then Brighton, the horse expert, rides with Dia. Then, it’s Jesse, who hesitantly lets himself be lifted onto a horse by Pablo, who rides with him. Last but not least, Francesca rides with the goofy counselor named Taylor.

“Do you want to try today?” Weston asks, holding each of his hands palm out, a simple way for Corbin to indicate yes or no.

Corbin picks the ‘yes’ hand, but when it comes to trying to get the helmet on him, Corbin just can’t tolerate it.

And then, it’s super hard for Corbin to deal with the fact that he’s going to miss out on riding this first day. Weston stays with him as he tries to get himself together, but they end up heading for a break room.

Sarah mentioned that Roman had a bunch of these available when she worked the workshop, but Weston’s never been in one.

It’s dimly lit with blue lights. Lots of sensory shit and it allows a kid (or a staff member) to de-escalate without being made to feel like crap about it.

Weston just hangs out in here, every once in a while offering, “I know you’re not a bad kid.” And “It’s okay that it takes time to get used to new things. We’ll probably be able to ride by the end of the week.”

“You want to try checking out arts and crafts?” Weston asks.

But Corbin’s answer to that is a resounding no.

“Okay. That’s cool. You want me to shut up now?” Weston wonders.

Without hesitation, Corbin picks the ‘yes’ hand.

Weston takes the hint.


	16. Colors

Once in their arts and crafts elective, Sarah gets comfortable right between Dia and Fran and Lexie and Giselle. Weston’s still with Corbin, she saw them on their way to one of the break rooms, and she has confidence in Weston - she even saw him using techniques that Corbin specifically suggested that were included in their training.

It’s basic...and it also matters...when so many of them come from homes where they don’t even have the basics.

“Dia, I love this painting you’re working on…” Sarah says, looking on with admiration. It’s clear that not only does Dia love art, she’s a talented abstract painter.

Dia keeps right on painting - lots of greens and yellows swirled together.

“Yeah, Dia, this is really beautiful,” Francesca comments. “I left you some cookies on your bed…” she whispers.

Dia hums softly in response.

“Hey, Sarah, I didn’t know you could ride horses,” Lexie points out, working on her own painting. “Or, like, you know...help me ride horses. Since Sylvan helped you on and stuff.”

“Rude,” Fran calls out. “You can’t just say that about our counselor. Sarah’s _our counselor_!”

Sarah takes a breath and projects a practiced calm. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that these kids internalize all the ableism they’re around, but still, it stings...being constantly underestimated is just as damaging as not being allowed to say _can’t_ at home growing up.

Still, she can’t quite think of what to say in the moment. So, the conversation goes on around her.

“What? I’m not saying it to be rude. I’m just saying. I pretty much figured like...Sarah and Olivia wouldn’t be doing horseback riding with us...but you both did. So that’s good.”

“Yeah, we both did,” Olivia nods.

“The point of this camp...and why it was designed the way it was...is so that people with disabilities can do the activities...and counselors with disabilities can help the campers do the activities,” Koa points out.

“Needing help doesn’t mean I can’t also help you guys,” Sarah says. “I can do both.”

“Right, because help moves around,” Francesca nods to herself. She sighs. “I loved riding with you, Taylor… I felt the tallest I ever have. Like...I was on top of the world.”

“Right back at you,” Taylor says warmly as she uses only black paint to outline her drawings and add little captions.

Francesca sighs in frustration. “Ugh, I’m terrible at art. You can’t even tell this is a dog…”

“That’s the beauty of art,” Taylor encourages. “No one has to know what it is but you.”

“I loved riding the horses,” Nico says. “It’s my favorite.”

“Mine, too,” Brighton adds with a smile.

“Me, too… I felt bad that Corbin didn’t get to ride this time,” Jonah adds. “Maybe next time, though.”

“Lexie, look at what Jesse’s doing. He’s using practically all the purple. That’s not fair,” Giselle points out.

“That’s the cool thing, though,” Taylor interjects smoothly. “There’s enough paint for everyone.”

“I didn’t like it…” Jesse comments.

It’s quiet, but Sarah overhears. 

“You didn’t like riding the horses?” Pablo asks. “Why?”

“Because...they were too big…” Jesse comments.

“Yeah, they were too big…” Lexie agrees.

“Wait. You’re just agreeing with him because he’s your brother,” Giselle complains.

“Hey, Giselle, I really love this pink tree you’re working on,” Brighton says. “I like how you’re doing the leaves.”

“Thanks,” Giselle smiles a little.

“Pink trees kinda make me miss my friends…” Fran comments softly.

Sarah’s not sure if Fran’s talking to her, or Dia, or the room at large. But she answers anyway. “Pink trees make you think of your friends back home? That’s pretty awesome. Why is that, do you think?”

“Well, because...we have this whole place. It’s kind of a secret just for us, and we go there to avoid mean people… Oh, you need the orange?” Fran asks as Dia reaches across Fran’s picture for it. “Here.” Francesca stops and observes Dia’s work. “You’re like a professional,” she says in awe. Mine is just a bunch of splotches because I tried to make my brother’s dog… and then my friend’s cat... and all the animals I know. So, it’s just brown and black and gray swirled together.”

Dia leans her head briefly against Francesca’s shoulder. She keeps humming under her breath, as she has been this whole time.

“You were saying?” Sarah prompts. “You have a place you go with your friends? To avoid mean people?”

“Oh yeah. And there’s pink trees there,” Fran comments, distracted. “You know, my sister sometimes can’t talk? And one of my friends, too?” This time, it’s clear that Francesca is talking to Dia. “So, that’s how I know behavior is communication. You don’t need to talk with words for us to be friends.”

Dia pats Fran the shoulder briefly, leaving a painty handprint on Fran’s smock.

Jesse moves in closer on the other side of Sarah. His giant purple painting dripping with color. “Sometimes, I can’t talk,” he offers in a whisper.

“And we can be friends, too, because it doesn’t matter if you can talk with your mouth or not, and I know that.” Fran says, matter of fact.

Sarah’s busy painting a giant pink heart with music notes around it when she hears Dia’s stopped humming. She’s speaking, her voice almost a whisper. Her words peppered with pauses.

From the bits that they can gather, it sounds like a Bible quote of some kind.

Francesca stiffens.

“You okay?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah,” Fran decides, exhaling. “I’m okay.”

\--

Before Sarah knows it, it’s time to wrap up arts and crafts. She helps the kids wash off their hands, and then they all head to the dining hall. Sarah pulls up alongside Fran as she walks. 

“You know...when I find out someone I wanna be friends with is into the Bible, I get nervous, too…” she confides.

“I’m not-- Wait. You do?” Fran asks, suspicious. “Why? Every guy in the world probably loves dating you…” Fran’s ears go red.

“That’s sweet of you to say...but it makes me nervous, because I like both. Both men and women. And some people don’t think that’s okay. They think it makes me bad or wrong...or that I have to choose...to be straight or gay.”

“But bi is a thing,” Fran says, sure.

“It _is_ a thing. Sarah pulls up to the bench outside the dining hall. “I’m saying...I guess...for some people like me? Having Christian friends? It’s kind of a deal breaker...but for other people...they’re curious. They have all kinds of friends, and they’re able to be honest about what they need and what kind of friendship feels safest to them.”

“Oh.” Francesca says. “Wait. Not oh. I don’t get it.”

“I’m saying...if you want to be friends with Dia, talk to her. Ask her questions. Let her talk to you. Then you can figure it out from there, if you want the friendship or not.”

“It’s just…” Francesca hesitates. “My moms...they’re really against churches and God stuff because one of those God people was mean to my mom? And so now we’re like...not really allowed to do churchy stuff, even though one of my sisters wanted to get baptized. And my brother had a boyfriend one time who was a minister’s son…”

“I see,” Sarah says. Everyone else has headed into the dining hall, but Sarah knows they have a good five minutes before they have to be inside. “How do you fit into all of this?”

“I...kinda kissed a girl…” Fran admits. “It got around school. And then my moms knew about it, and they told my whole family about it. I don’t know what I am. If I just like kissing her...or, like, if I’ll like kissing both, like you, or what… Just...what if Dia finds this out, and she hates me?”

“Well...that’s one possibility…” Sarah allows. “There’s also the possibility that she’ll love you for exactly who you are. That maybe she scripts Bible verses because they comfort _her_ , and it has nothing to do with how she feels about _you_. But I understand the fear. I really do.”

“I smell grilled cheese...and tomato soup…” Francesca says, casting longing looks at the doors.

“Yeah, let’s go in,” she says.

“Hey, there’s your son!” Fran calls as Weston jogs across the grass. She waves, and he waves back. “You’re just in time for lunch,” Fran says, grinning.

“Wouldn’t wanna miss lunch….” Weston says, Corbin at his side.

They go inside together, in time to sing the Camp Bravery chant.

“Heads up,” Taylor says. “We’re doing cabin songs at the end of lunch.”

“Oh, we are?” Sarah asks. “That’s right, it’s Monday afternoon.”

Sarah concentrates on eating and helping campers. Taylor seamlessly gets up whenever Dia does and walks around with her for a bit before walking her back to sit again. Both Dia and Corbin are wearing noise-cancelling headphones, and Rosa declaring the dining hall a quiet / no cheering zone is helping keep the noise down. The lights are also dimmed and windows are half covered.

When lunch is over (in the blink of an eye, it feels like), it’s time for cabin cheers. Sarah feels confident in theirs - and since they’re the youngest group, Sunshine cabins are up first.

_“Sunshine cabins… Doo doo doo doo… Sunshine cabins… and I said… We’re all right…_ .” Sarah leads them. (It’s sort of cheating, because they clearly borrowed the melody from The Beatles classic, _Here Comes the Sun_ , but these kids are all too young to know that.) Sarah kind of loves that everyone was up for it though, because it makes her think of Jolene.

The Full Moon cabins are called the winners (at least today), and then it’s back to the cabin for one of Sarah’s favorite hours of the day:

Rest time.

First, though, she stops by the main offices and picks up the pile of mail for the Sunshine girls cabin. She flips through it until she finds what she’s hoping is there.

An envelope with a name and a return address she recognizes;

Jolene Ruff.

She rips it open right then and there:

_Dear Sarah,_

_Hi, sweetie. I hope you’re having the best time at camp. I bet you are in your element and I hope Weston is doing okay, too, with all the new things. You are such a strong leader. Remember that it is okay to need help, too. People all around you want to help, so if you need it, don’t hesitate to ask. Contrary to what you’ve been raised to believe, needing help does not make you a burden._

_I love you so much._

_P.S. Gill says hello._

_Love,_

_Auntie Jolene._

Sarah holds the note close to her heart, blinking back tears, even as she laughs. Leave it to Jolene to touch her heart and crack her up with a random reference to her pet goldfish in one letter.

Carefully, Sarah stows the rest of the letters in her backpack and zips it closed, and then she heads back to the cabin.


	17. Notes

When Francesca gets back to her bed for rest time, she’s ready to be bored for a whole entire hour. She has a lot of snail mail she can write, but that’s not how she wants to spend her time.

Something teal catches her attention on her pillow, and she reaches out to pick it up.

_ I liked what you said about accommodations not being special treatment. You’re a wise kid. - Weston (a counselor from next door) _

Francesca smiles to herself (because she totally knows who Weston is) and tucks the note in her Franny pack with sloths on it. This note reminds her of times The Avoiders made sure to write down things they noticed that were good about each other. Fran kept those first notes in her original Franny pack for a whole year. She needed the constant reminder that she didn’t totally ruin everyone’s day as a person.

“Here’s a crash course in how rest time goes,” Olivia says quietly as Dia walks in with Taylor. “You may write letters home. You may write notes to your friends in the cabin here. But stay in your beds and try not to talk, in case someone in the cabin is tired and actually needs sleep. We’ll be around here if you do need something.”

Fran watches as Dia finds her package of Golden Oreos and passes them to Taylor who opens them for her and hands them back.

Dia and her cookies are pretty much the only thing to look at. And looking at Dia makes Fran remember before lunch and Dia’s Bible verses.

She thinks for a while.

_ You may write notes to your friends in the cabin here _ , Olivia had said.

It takes Dia a long time to point to what she wants to say. Letters or words or whatever. Fran wants this to be as accessy as possible for her. And she remembers that for Mari, when talking is hard, sometimes yes or no questions are best.

_ Hey Dia, _

_ Its me, Fran. I heard you saying bible stuff in Arts and Crafts and I was wondering do you think gay people are wrong or bad? Yes or no?  _

_ P.S. Please be honest. _

_ Sincerely, Francesca _

When Fran is done writing her note, she has to think about how to get it over to Dia’s bed without leaving her own bed. She thinks about folding it into a paper airplane...but what if it flies the wrong place?

Just then, Olivia walks over, and Fran offers the folded note that says Dia’s name on the front, nodding toward her friend.

Olivia nods and brings the note over to Dia. She sits down beside her, and whispers. Then unfolds the note and whispers some more. Then, Olivia holds up both hands and Dia taps one over and over. More whispering. Then, Olivia gets some paper and writes a word carefully. She hands the paper to Dia who has a lot of markers. Dia starts to swirl all kinds of designs on the page.

The process takes a long time so Fran eventually gives up waiting and turns her attention to her list of people to write to. Moms are listed first. Fran frowns to herself. Moms are really the last people she wants to write to but if she doesn’t she’ll probably hear all about it when she gets home. So, Fran grits her teeth and writes:

_ Dear Moms. _

_ Hi! How are you?  _

_ Camp is fine. It is only the first day so I haven’t done much yet.  _

_ I am in Horseback Riding and Arts and Crafts and Swimming and Boating. I have not done Swimming and Boating yet.  _

_ Gotta go, I have more letters to write, but you are the first ones I wrote to. _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Fran _

Francesca puts the letter into one of her already stamped and addressed envelopes - even though she feels bad wasting her best Moana themed stationary and cute sandy beach envelopes on Moms. But now, they are out of the way and she won’t have to write them again.

She breathes a sigh of relief and looks down her list: Mariana is next.

Francesca’s happy that Pua the pig is on Mari’s stationary because he’s so cute. She writes:

_ Dear Mari, _

_ Guess what? Lots of people here at camp can’t always talk. They just get accommodations and its NBD.  _

_ I am going to sing in the talent show on Thursday night.  _

_ Are you guys coming to Family Night? It’s Wednesday and Jesus said he might do LGD (large group discussion.) Please write back ASAP and tell me if you are coming. Please also don’t tell Moms when it is, I don’t want them to come. I love you and miss you and I hope you are okay. _

_ Love, _

_ Francesca _

Francesca tucks Mari’s letter into the envelope Mariana addressed especially for herself - with Jesus’s address on it - not Moms. (Because Moms sometimes snoop through their stuff) Fran feels safe with Mari’s note going to Jesus’s, though.

She’s about to write another when Olivia walks over with a piece of paper and hands it to Fran. Francesca unfolds it. She sees a swirl of beautiful colors and in the middle of it all, in tiny perfect printing (only Olivia writes that perfectly) is the word.  _ No. _

Francesca has written so many other letters now she has to think back to the very first one. Oh yeah, she asked Dia if she thought being gay was wrong or bad...and Dia spelled back no.

She spelled back no!

Fran excitedly writes another note to Dia, thinking of Sarah’s earlier question:

_ Hi Dia, _

_ This is Fran. That makes me so happy., because I don’t think I am straight. Do you say bible stuff because it makes you feel better inside? Yes or no? _

_ Do you still want to be friends? Yes or no? _

_ P.S. I love your painting so much in arts and crafts. I think it is the best one out of all of ours. _

_ Love, _

_ Fran _

Francesca’s about to offer the note to Olivia when she stands up. “Okay. We have swimming and boating next so that means, so we need to change into whatever we brought to go swimming in. Then, we’ll go together to the pool.”

“I had a really important note for Dia, though…” Fran objects.

“Well, if it’s really important, I’ll make sure she gets it,” Olivia answers easily. “But I need you to head into the bathroom and get changed, alright? Let us know if you need help.”

“Okay. Also, I have those two letters to mail…” Fran points to the sealed envelopes on her bed.

She goes into the bathroom and puts on her  _ Moana _ swimsuit that looks just like what Moana wears in the movie. She’s more than a little nervous, though, since Moms insisted that she didn’t need to bring her life jacket from home because they “would definitely have them there.”

“Hey...I didn’t see life jackets on our list of stuff to pack..so I don’t have mine…” she hedges.

“That’s alright. We have extras,” Taylor says. “Don’t forget your towel, Moana.”

Fran smiles, feeling a little bit better.

They’re on their way out of the cabin when a hand comes down on Fran’s shoulder. She jumps and catches herself on the bench outside their cabin, and looks over her shoulder.

“Oh. Hey, Dia…” Fran says holding her chest a little.

(Dia’s swimming suit is black with tons of science equations in white all over it. Olivia’s suit is also black with a giant golden HP on the front.)

“Dia had something important to tell you.” That’s Olivia. “And she wants to tell  _ you _ . One way that works for her is if you hold up your hands in front of you like this,” Olivia demonstrates. “And use the right to mean yes. And the left to mean no.”

Fran hesitantly raises her hands like Olivia’s showing her.

“Can you ask her your first question again?” Olivia asks.

“Um… Does saying that Bible stuff make you feel better inside?”

Dia touches Fran’s right hand very lightly.

“Yes? Okay. Um… So...do you still wanna be friends with me even though...I might not be straight?” Fran whispers.

This time, Dia touches Fran’s right hand over and over.

_ Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. _

“Okay. Me, too. Fran says, smiling. “Oh, did you like your cookies?”

Dia taps Fran’s left hand.

“No?” Fran asks. Then she looks down as Dia taps her letterboard and the letters J and K.

“JK. You’re just kidding?” Fran laughs. “Don’t joke about cookies.”

Dia smiles a little. Then she taps Fran’s right hand. 

_ Yes. _

“Okay. You  _ did _ like the cookies,” Fran answers.

_ Yes. _

Dia lays her head down briefly on Francesca’s shoulder and then hangs onto her again.

“This actually makes me lose my balance...when you grab my shoulder. Can you not do it?” Fran asks.

It takes Dia a while to let go.

“Okay, I’m sure everyone else is at the pool by now. We should go.” Olivia encourages. “I’d love to hold one of your hands, Dia. Is that okay?”

Dia nods.

“And that wouldn’t make me lose my balance…” Fran points out.

Again, Dia nods.

After checking one more time, for consent, Olivia holds one of Dia’s hands. Fran checks again for consent, too, and holds the other. 

Then, they walk together to the pool.

Fran feels so relieved. 

She has a friend here after all.


	18. Treading

It’s weird to make a point to encourage the kids around here, but Weston had been meaning to drop a note to Francesca, especially since he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the thing she said about accommodations.

It’s the last thing he expects to find a note of his own in the mail stack for his cabin. Two, actually. One from Sarah. Another from Jolene.

_ Weston, _

_ So proud of you for being able to go with the flow, working with your campers and practicing the same respect with them as we do at home. You’re doing great.  _

_ P.S. Even though it’s different, it’s still you and me. _

_ Love,  _

_ Sarah _

Weston crumples up the note and shoves it in the bottom of his bag. It’s an old habit - he’s been almost conditioned to not show any interest or attachment to anything because the second he does, that thing gets stolen from him.

He doesn’t do it much anymore, but Weson’s not surprised it’s coming back, what with sharing bunk space with three other people.

Jolene’s letter is here, too.

Weston rips it open:

_ Dear Weston, _

_ I can only imagine all the new (and possibly scary) things you’re facing this week at camp. Just remember, we already know you’re brave. You don’t have to prove anything to us by pushing yourself past your limits. _

_ P.S. Gill wanted me to send you these. _

_ Love, _

_ Auntie Jolene _

Weston laughs a little, in spite of himself. Jolene is… She has this naive sense of humor that’s weirdly cool. Like, how she says her pet goldfish (named Gill after Bill Murray’s character’s fish in  _ What About Bob? _ ) somehow wanted her to send him Goldfish. The crackers.

He eats them fast and then shoves that letter down into the bottom of the bag.

Before he knows it, it’s time to help the campers get ready for swimming. Weston’s ready. He’s got a black swimming shirt and light blue trunks and some flips, too.

It’s a whirlwind getting the campers ready.

Corbin, for one, doesn’t seem to be able to move now that it’s time for another activity. He’s been working on this sewing project. A stuffed animal thing. Also, Jonah’s in a rare pissy mood.

“I can’t even swim, so why bother?” Jonah asks.

“So? You could still come and watch,” Nico encourages. “It’s fun.”

“Watching Isn't as fun as doing,” Jesse points out.

Eventually, Koa sends Weston and Pablo ahead with Jesse and Nico. (Weston guesses Koa and Sylvan are staying behind to help out Corbin and Jonah.)

They get to the pool, and Weston eases in with Jesse, who’s timid about new things. The first thing they both notice is the major ramp that goes all the way down into the pool.

“Whoa! Lexie, you could bring your Batmobile in here!” Jesse calls out, impressed.

“Nah-uh,” Lexie argues. “It would rust!”

It’s hard not to stop everything Weston’s doing when his gaze travels down to Jesse’s legs. When he realizes it’s impossible to count the number of surgery scars Jesse’s got in one glance.

Weston forces himself to focus on Jesse’s face. It’s not the kid’s fault he has to wear trunks to swim in. 

It’s more than a little strange to be hanging onto an eleven year old the entire time Weston’s in the pool. But this is his job. To make sure no kids drown on his watch.

“I’m not even good at this,” Jesse comments softly. “Why did I even pick this?”

“Maybe you like boating…” Weston suggests.

“That’s true, I do like boating,” Jesse nods. “Hey, this water isn’t even freezing…”

“See? It’s not so bad, right? Besides...I think you guys get a bunch of free time next...and the canteen’s open. So, it’s a good thing you’re swimming now.”

“Why?” Jesse asks. 

“Well, you don’t have to wait two hours to have canteen...or wait…” Weston says, confused. 

Jesse laughs a little. “You’re really funny.”

“Yeah? Well, I try…”

It takes a while for all of them to arrive. Olivia’s late with Fran and Dia. Koa and Corbin, Sylvan and Jonah show almost halfway into swimming.

Weston casually walks with Jesse over near where Sarah’s sitting on the side. Close enough to hear her conversation with Jonah, who has joined her there.

“Yeah, trouble with temperature regulation can be brutal,” Sarah’s saying. 

“I used to be able to swim with my oxygen but I can’t swim with the vent and I don’t want to just float around on inflatables.” Jonah complains. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be negative…”

“You should, though,” Sarah nods. “It’s okay to feel bad about missing out. It’s natural.”

“Sometimes, I just wanna do something anyway, you know? Not like, life-threatening, but just like, a little rebellious.”

“You’re smarter than I was in my 20s,” Sarah tells Jonah ruefully. “I took all kinds of risks to fit in socially. “And I’ll tell you, the dignity of risk is one thing…”

“But isn’t that exactly what it is?” Jonah asks. “You were free to take risks. Even dangerous ones.” He sighs. “I just wish I could still dive and stuff…”

“Being left out is rough,” Weston says.

“Has anybody ever left you out?” Jonah asks, curious.

“Like...more times than you know…” Weston admits, a memory nudging the edges of his mind.

“Who says you have to be left out?” Taylor asks, approaching them from behind. She’s holding Francesca’s hand, and each of them offer a couple Aqua Flyers and then get in the pool, ready to play catch, handing out more.

“You could have just gotten squirt guns....” Weston hears Francesca point out to Taylor. 

“Yeah, but I’m not a big fan of guns. Even toy guns,” Taylor admits.

“This is better anyway,” Jonah crows, throwing his ball Francesca’s way. She puts her hand in the air more defensively than anything and the ball sticks to it.

“I caught it! I never catch anything!” she exclaims.

“Hey! Fran caught the ball!” Taylor announces, trying to keep her voice down and kind of failing. All the surfaces in here echo, and Weston knows from training that they try to keep the volume down to respect campers and counselors with sensitive hearing or filtering trouble.

Brighton celebrates with a bunch of whispered cheers.

Jesse sends a thumbs up.

And it feels good. In this moment, camp feels like a place where everyone can be in on the fun.

Weston thinks about it.

Maybe that’s the entire point of Camp Bravery.


	19. Break

So, Sarah loves the campers. Let’s be clear on that. She’d do anything to help them. Anything to make sure they’re safe. But she needs this break. They’ve been on-duty more than twenty-four hours straight. And while she’s gotten to sleep in that time, she also needs time to just be.

She needs time to check in with Weston, too.

They drive thru a local Taco Bell to get Weston a Nacho Bell Combo and picks them both up S’mores frappuccinos from Starbucks.

“Thanks,” he says, as she hands him the food and beverage.

“No problem,” she answers. “Did you get something from Jolene?” she checks (knowing Jolene is the only one in her immediate family (besides Sarah’s own younger sister) who genuinely loves and accepts Weston as a part of the family,

“And Gill,” Weston says, swallowing a bite. 

“Aw, what did Gill send?” Sarah asks.

“Goldfish crackers. It’s kinda messed up that a goldfish would send Goldfish crackers, right? Like...he wants me to eat his own species.”

“Well, he’s not a cracker, so it’s not technically his species,” Sarah offers. “But I see what you mean.”

“Thanks for your thing, too,” he says. “I didn’t know we were supposed to be doing that.”

“What?” Sarah asks.

“Encouraging staff and shit,” he says. “I haven’t done that.”

“It’s not required,” Sarah reassures. “It’s just something I like doing. That’s why I do it.”

“Oh,” Weston says. “So, if I never feel like it, you won’t like, be offended, or whatever?”

“I’d rather you’re honest. That whatever our communication it is, that it’s genuine,” Sarah says. “Speaking of which… How are you doing with all of this?”

There’s a pause while Weston considers. “It’s weird…” he admits. “I feel like I’m the last person that should ever be put in charge of a bunch of kids, you know. I’ve never taken care of anybody younger before.”

“So, it’s a big change,” she deduces. “Need to talk through anything in particular?”

“Jonah hates swimming,” Weston points out.

Sarah just listens.

“ _ You _ hate swimming…” he continues, conversationally, sipping his drink. 

“I don’t hate swimming…” Sarah objects.

“You don’t like it,” Weston pushes back. “You told Jonah.”

“That’s true. It can be difficult to come face to face with my limitations. Especially if everyone around me doesn’t share those limitations and can participate easily.” Sarah muses.

“Sucks to be the only one,” Weston agrees. “Anyway, it was cool you talked to him. Also, why the hell was your family reunion on a lake if you hate swimming?”

“Because my family - for the most part - believes I can do anything I can put my mind to. If I try hard enough…” Sarah shares.

“So, no wonder you were pushing past your limits all the time when you were younger and shit…” Weston considers. “You can’t actually do that. No one can.”

“It’s true,” Sarah agrees. “So, you were feeling nervous about taking care of people this week. Do you have any questions for me about anything going on this week? Or just in your life?”

“Ugh,” Weston groans, sitting back with a smile on his face. “This was the shit…” he says, gesturing to his empty taco bag and Starbucks cup. “And...I guess...how do I know I’m doing right by a kid? Like...that I’m not screwing him up forever?”

“Well...first you take their cues. When kids interact with you, pay attention to their cues. Are they happy? Are they at ease?”

“They seem like it. So far.” Weston allows.

“Good, that’s a great sign,” Sarah praises.

“Do you remember when I first moved in with you...and I was like...so pissed that you wanted to, like, drive me around your neighborhood and show me where shit was?”

“I do,” she Sarah remembers.

“You didn’t know...you know...how I felt about cars and whatever back then…” Weston muses.

“That’s right. I didn’t,” Sarah shakes her head sadly.

“But now we’re hanging out in your car,” he points out.

“And are you okay?” Sarah asks.

Weston nods. “Yeah. I trust you now. I mean...I trusted you then, too...just way less.”

“That’s fair,” Sarah nods. “I think you’ve come a really long way in six years, Stun. Sorry. Weston.”

“Stun’s okay. If it’s just us like this,” Weston agrees. “But do you think you’d like...still be proud of me and shit if I were still waking you up fifteen times a night...and like...eating everything and crashing your car and calling you names?”

“Hey,” Sarah says. “Are my bats still there?” she asks, moving her hair aside.

Weston leans over to inspect. “Yeah. They are. And mine are.”

“You and me, right?” she asks, rhetorically.

“Yeah, you and me.” Weston says, seeming a little calmer.

“No matter what, I am proud of you,” she tells him softly. “No matter what, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says. “I just...keep thinking how I messed up your life…”

“You made my life so much better,” Sarah tells him. “Where’s this coming from? What are you dealing with?”

Weston shrugs. “I just really miss you. I feel like we haven’t talked in forever. And I...I guess I’m used to having you around. We see each other, I know, but it’s not the same. It’s not like talking...like this.”

“So...maybe you feel lonely?” Sarah asks gently.

“I just miss you,” he repeats. 

“Well, then, I think we need to make sure that we take this time to talk to each other this week. I think it’s really important. Because you’re really important. And I miss you, too. I love spending time with you.”

“You do?” he asks, his eyebrows raising a little.

“I do,” Sarah nods.

Weston sighs. “Sorry, I… I usually know this shit it’s just… It’s still June and, like…all bets are off.”

“It’s okay,” Sarah reassures him, squeezing his hand. “Need a hug?”

“So much,” he almost begs.

Sarah wraps her arms around him and he holds on back.

They count together and she can feel his heartbeat slow.

“I’ve got you. And if you need anything...you come and tell me.” Sarah tells him looking into his eyes.

“That’s okay?” he asks.

“That’s highly encouraged,” Sarah nods, smiling at him.

“Highly encouraged. Okay,” he laughs a little to himself. “I guess I can do this, then.”

“It’s okay to need help, according to Jolene,” Sarah says.

“She said you guys already know I’m brave and I don’t have to prove anything to you.” Weston shares. Sarah sees the briefest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Is that true? It’s not like, ‘This is Camp Bravery, Weston. You gotta be brave as hell for the kids?’”

“You don’t have to prove anything to us. And…” Sarah pauses. “It’s more like: ‘This is Camp Bravery, where emotional honesty is encouraged and a great example to the kids.’”

“Ah. Okay,” he nods.

“Okay,” Sarah echoes. “I love you. Whether your instincts are spot on, or whether you make a mistake. If you make a mistake, it’s safe to tell me, even here, and we’ll fix it together.”

“Yeah? Or if I have a question?” he asks. “Do I have to just figure it out, ‘cause it’s work?”

“No. If you have a question, please ask. Just like at home, questions are okay anytime.”

They pull back into the camp parking lot. 

“Okay. Love you,” he says, and gets out of the car. “Need a hand?” he asks, sticking his head back in the window.

“No, but thank you for checking. Bye, See you at dinner.” Sarah tells him.

“Bye, Mister,” he says softly, and just like that, he’s jogging away.


	20. Free

It feels like Francesca has been waiting her whole entire life for free time. And once it’s here, she almost doesn’t know what to do. Of course, she has to get out of her swimsuit and change back into regular clothes. 

She does, back at the cabin.

Rosa is on duty now, since all the other counselors are on break. She’s just walking around to the three girls’ cabins making sure everybody’s doing okay.

Since it’s a camp rule that a safe adult be in the cabin somewhere if a camper is in the shower, just in case they need help, Fran asks Rosa if she minds coming in. Rosa doesn’t mind, and just hangs out, not being hyper about what Fran’s doing. It’s a little weird having Rosa here, but Fran tries not to think about it.

Francesca showers and changes her clothes. 

As soon as she can, she sticks her head out of the bathroom to say, “You can go now, if you want. I’m not showering anymore.”

“Sounds good,” Rosa says, standing up. “I’ll be just outside if you need something.”

“Okay,” Fran says.

When Rosa’s gone it feels like Fran can breathe easier. She waits until she sees Rosa start to walk away and then she goes over to her bed and reaches into her backpack Elsa and Anna backpack from Pearl. She takes out her headphones and plugs them into her phone to scroll through her music.

She already knows which song she’s going to pick.

\--

A long time later, there’s a tap on her shoulder out of nowhere. Fran jumps a foot. She has been so into her song, and into practicing it, that she lost track of everything else.

She opens her eyes and sees Dia. Rosa’s with her.

“Hey. Jonah’s calling for you outside. Dia wanted you to know, I think…” Rosa tells Fran.

“Oh, thanks, Dia,” Fran says and gets up off her bed to go find out what Jonah’s doing.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he answers, still in front of the boys’ cabin.

“Dia came and got me. You wanted to talk to me or something?” Fran asks.

“Just wondered if you guys wanted to hang out,” he asks.

“Yeah,” Fran agrees. She sits down on the bench outside the cabin to ask Dia, “Do you wanna hang out with Jonah?” She puts both hands up like Olivia taught her.

_ Yes. _

“Okay. We all want to. What are we gonna do?” Fran asks.

“Do you still have your cookie stash?” he asks.

“Yeah, hold on,” she says. She’s still holding onto Dia’s hand as they go back inside the cabin. 

Dia finds the dinosaur bag first and unzips it. She takes out some Golden Oreos. She rips open the package.

“Okay…” Fran says slowly. But what is she supposed to do? They’re friends. Maybe she thought that because they were getting the bag together, they were all going to share anyways…

“Everything okay?” Rosa asks.

“Dia… You just took my cookies,” Fran points out.

“You wanna sit down? What do you want to say to Fran?” Rosa asks, holding out the stenciled board of letters.

It takes a while, but eventually, Francesca sees the message Rosa wrote down made from all the letters Dia pointed to with her pencil.

“I WANT TO SAY TO FRAN I’M SORRY. MY IMPULSES ARE TOO STRONG. HARD TO CONTROL WHEN I SEE SOMETHING I LOVE.”

“You love my cookies?” Fran puts her hands up so Dia can easily answer.

_ Yes. _

“Should I just...let you have them because we’re friends?” Fran asks, confused.

Dia doesn’t answer right away. She’s still eating cookies.

“What do you both think would be a fair solution?” Rosa asks. “Is there something you can agree to?”

Dia taps the dinosaur bag. She taps it again. And again.

“What can you ask Dia about what she’s doing right now?” Rosa asks. “Why might she be tapping your bag?”

“...To...ask for a cookie?” Fran guesses. “Because we were talking all about solutions, right?” Again, she puts her hands up.

_ Yes _ .

“You’ll tap my bag if you want a cookie?” Fran checks.

_ Yes. _

“That’s great problem-solving, both of you. And Francesca, were you able to accept Dia’s apology?” Rosa asks.

“Yeah, because friends don’t do mean things on purpose,” Fran says. “Thanks for saying sorry.”

Dia pats Fran on the shoulder.

“Hello? I’m still out here….” Jonah calls. “Does anybody want to go read Harry Potter in the library?”

“You want to?” Fran asks.

_ Yes _ , Dia smiles.

They walk together - Rosa still with Dia - just to make sure they all get where they want to go. Jonah is talking a mile a minute all about whatever happens next for Harry Potter, when Giselle and Lexie see them.

“Ooh, it’s your boyfriend,” Giselle giggles.

“There’s nothing wrong with having a boyfriend,” Jonah points out calmly.

But Fran feels frozen.

“We don’t tease here,” Rosa says in a serious voice. “This is your warning.”

“What? I was just saying it to be funny…” Giselle objects. “Besides, why do you even care, Fran? You’re not even ever hanging out with me.”

“ _ You’re _ not even ever hanging out with  _ me _ !” Fran objects.

“Okay. I think there needs to be an apology, Giselle, and then we are going to be on our way, unless Francesca decides she wants to talk more.”

“No,” Fran says, scuffing her shoe on the ground.

“Fine. Sorry,” Giselle huffs. She sounds close to crying.

\--

Once they arrive at the library and Jonah finds Book Six in the stacks, they’re all at the table, except Rosa, who left.

“I don’t get why she’s so upset…” Fran complains. “She doesn’t even want to hang out at all…”

“Maybe she does,” Jonah offers.

Dia has found markers and is making very colorful swirls on paper while she listens.

“So, she makes fun of me? That’s not what a friend does, Jonah. Not here. Camp was supposed to be different,” Fran objects.

“Friendships are hard,” Jonah says simply. “But the ones that are worth it, are worth fighting for.”

Fran sits quietly until Dia nudges the book their way. Fran nudges it closer to Jonah.

He opens it and starts to read:

_ “The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane...” _


	21. Hike

Walking back onto the campgrounds a half hour before dinner, Weston finds himself bracing for something. He doesn’t know what, exactly. It’s just one of those involuntary reactions that he has. The first person he sees is Jonah.

“Hey. You’re back from your break,” Jonah observes.

“Yup,” Weston answers. 

“Where did you go? I need this information...in case I’m ever a counselor,” he smiles, like he expects the answer to be a bar or something.

“We went to Taco Bell and Starbucks,” he says.

“Oh, my gosh…” Jonah calls out loudly. “Without me?”

“Sorry, man…” Now it’s Weston’s turn to smile.

Francesca appears then, walking up from the dining hall. “Dia wants to just wait for dinner. Like on the bench right outside the dining hall. But, guess what we’re having?”

“What?” Weston asks.

“Chicken nuggets and French fries,” she enthuses. “I smelled them!”

“I’m ready to eat. I don’t know about you guys…” Weston jokes. By now, they’re sitting down at a picnic table.

Giselle goes by and gives Fran a dirty look.

“What’s going on there?” Weston asks, curious.

“Giselle’s feeling left out by Fran. Fran’s feeling the same...but Giselle’s coping by teasing us and saying we’re boyfriend / girlfriend,” Jonah says.

“Jeez! Announce it to everybody in the world!” Fran complains, burying her head in her arms.

“Sorry,” Jonah apologizes, sheepish. “I’m gonna go see what time it is,” Jonah decides and makes his way to the dining hall, where there’s a clock in plain sight.

“Sucks when friends turn on you…” Weston says. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it…” Fran mutters into her arms.

“I’m bored,” Jesse says, walking up and sitting beside Fran. “Can we go on a nature walk or something?”

“Yeah,” Fran agrees, perking up. “A nature walk!”

“Sure, we’ve got a half hour, and we’ll hear the bell when it’s time to be back. Let’s go,” Weston says.

They’ve barely headed out when Weston feels a familiar hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Corbin. Oh yeah, you’re into nature, aren’t you?” Weston checks. Prim walks along beside him.

Corbin makes an excited sound in response.

“Well, then you should definitely come,” Weston says.

Truth be told, Weston knows fuck-all about nature. But he finds it peaceful and he knows enough to discourage the kids from touching obvious shit like poison ivy.

“So...we’re gonna try not to touch anything,” he advises easily when Fran picks a dandelion.

“Oops,” she says and drops it on the ground.

“No problem. It’s just...probably safer to look than touch. Just in case,” he cautions. He points out what he does recognize: “That tree looks like it’s a thousand years old…”

“Yeah,” Jesse agrees. “I love thousand-year-old trees.”

“Where’s Lexie?” Fran asks, as they all stop to sit on a bench and rest.

“Where do you think?” Jesse asks a little darkly.

“With Giselle,” Fran fills in sadly. “What’s up with them doing everything together and forgetting about us?”

“Who knows?” Jesse shrugs. “Lexie was the one who always hated it the most if I left her out of something. Now she’s doing it to me. Maybe she’s trying to get back at me.”

“Lexie doesn’t seem _ that _ mean…” Fran observes.

“That’s true. We have a cousin. She’s nine. She _ is _ that mean,” Jesse fills in.

“Oh,” Fran says. “I don’t have any cousins. My mom is an only child and my other mom doesn’t talk to her one brother.”

They get up and keep walking. Jesse and Fran don’t talk as they walk and Corbin hangs out on the path (which is a sidewalk marked with colored arrows) with Prim.

“We should probably start heading back…” Weston suggests and they turn around. It’s quiet with just the sound of everybody breathing. Weston’s mind starts to wander. To his room. Years ago. As a kid. Breathing in the dark. Hands where Weston never wanted them to be.

“Corbin. Whoa,” Fran exclaims, pulling Weston out of his thoughts. “I almost tripped over you. Sorry.”

Weston tries to focus on right now. Sees Corbin sitting in the middle of the path. Weston sits, too. “It’s cool,” he says. “We’ll wait with you.”

“Yeah, Fran and I get tired easily, too,” Jesse agrees, sitting down near Corbin. 

Fran sits down, too, in the grass. “Corbin, you have such great ideas. I’m happy to rest.”

“Look, it’s a very ugly caterpillar,” Weston says, pointing it out with a leaf.

Fran shrieks a little, and Corbin covers his ears.

“Sorry,” Fran whispers to Corbin.

“It’s not a very  _ ugly _ caterpillar. It's  The Very  _ Hungry _ Caterpillar . You know that book?” Jesse explains, laughing.

“Yeah,” Fran agrees, smiling. “I wish this thing looked like that caterpillar…” She makes a face.

In the distance, the dinner bell rings. 

They’re still pretty far away from the playground. The cabins. The dining hall.

“Shoot. We’re going to miss chicken nuggets!” Fran exclaims. “I can’t walk that fast. By the time we get there, there won’t be any left!”

“I bet they’ll save some for us,” Jesse reassures.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” Weston agrees. (He’s pretty sure.)

“I could run ahead,” Jesse volunteers. “And tell them not to eat everything.”

“Nah, stay here with us. We’re safer as a group. It wouldn’t be cool of me to send you off on your own. You didn’t come on the nature walk alone, you asked me, which was awesome. So, I’m not sending you back alone. We’ll just hang here and talk and look at sh-- at stuff,” Weston says.

“Anybody want some Cheetos?” Fran asks, offering her bag of snacks around. “This way we won’t starve.”

“You’re always prepared, aren’t you?” Weston asks, impressed, but he doesn’t take any of Fran’s food. He has hard limits around taking food from kids. She has it for a reason.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, as she reaches in for a handful of Cheetos and passes the bag to Jesse and then to Corbin. “Surviving a blizzard will do that.”

“You have got to tell me about this blizzard, okay? I’ve never seen one. Sarah used to live where there’s a bunch of snow, but obviously it’s not like that in California,” Weston says, interested.

“Okay, so… I went to visit my friends in Minnesota, back in April. We had no idea it was going to happen…” Fran begins.

\--

Sarah’s outside the dining hall, scanning the crowd for Francesca, when she notices Brighton, Taylor and Sylvan and Corbin’s mom, Nichole, all running at top speed.

“What’s going on?” she asks as Olvia, who walks up looking worried.

“We can’t find Fran…” Olivia shares quietly. “Or Weston,” she whispers. “Or Jesse or Corbin…”

“They have to be somewhere,” Sarah says, trying to keep calm. 

“Yeah...Roman and Rosa say to just...try to keep the rest of the campers as calm as we can and stick to the schedule. Our search team is taking care of that part…”

The campers all file inside the dining hall, but Sarah and Olivia hang back. 

“I’m sick to my stomach…” Olivia admits. “I can’t call Stef and Lena and tell them this…”

“Hopefully you won’t have to…” Sarah reassures. “Come on, Weston,” she says under her breath.

Yes, her camper is missing. Yes, that’s devastating and huge and wrong. 

But Sarah can’t deny the dread unfolding itself in her gut. 

Because her Stun is also missing.

\--

When Weston, Corbin, Jesse and Fran finally make their way back to camp and the playground is in sight, the first person he sees is Brighton.

“Are you guys okay?” they ask, looking seriously concerned. Then, they say something over walkie-talkie, and there’s a bunch of static-filled responses.

The air is alive with anxiety. What the hell happened?

“Yeah. We’re fine. Why? Guys, go ahead and get some dinner, okay? Good walk.” Weston reassures the kids. He’s still confused as hell, but the campers don’t need to be in on his stress.

“Thanks, Weston,” Francesca says. Jesse waves, and Sylvan is there to help Corbin transition to going home.

Koa rushes up just about then. “Where were you guys?” He looks intense. 

“We were just on a hike… What’s the big deal? I thought...as long as the campers have a counselor with them, it’s cool,” Weston says.

“Roman wants to talk to you,” Koa says.

“Okay. Sure,” Weston shrugs.

He’s more than a little annoyed that Koa walks with him all the way into Roman’s office.

Once he’s in there, Koa sits down at the same time as Weston. He gets the same feeling he used to get when Sarah was called into school all those times Weston got in trouble.

“What?” he asks.

“Do you know what happens - what protocol is - when we can’t find campers?” Roman asks.

“No,” Weston asks, still not sure where this is going.

“Everything stops. And our staff - the ones designated - must drop everything they’re doing and spread out and search. We search the lake. The pool. We search cabins. And behind camp buildings. We did that today. Just now.”

“Why?” Weston asks. 

“Because one-eighth of our campers suddenly went missing,” Roman explains sofly.

“What? They weren’t. They were with me,” Weston says.

“But no one else knew that,” Koa adds quietly. “We just knew we were doing headcount outside the dining hall, and we came up four short. You, Jesse, Corbin and Francesca.”

There’s silence as Weston tries to catch up with the conversation. “So...you didn’t know where we were, and everyone freaked out?” he manages. “But they were fine. We were just hanging out. It was free time. We were being free. There’s not, like, a rule that says don’t go on nature hikes…”

“Where is the one place that’s off limits outside?” Roman asks.

“The woods,” Weston answers easily.

“The nature trails… They are for the nature club to use. At elective times. They’re not a free-for-all, because of their proximity to the woods. When you’re on the nature trails, you’re a good distance away from the camp. It would be difficult to tell if something was happening here,” Roman explains.

“So...no nature hikes…” Weston deduces. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Corbin’s mom waited for ten extra minutes to pick him up. She joined us in the search. She was frantic. Why didn’t you come when you heard the bell ring?” Koa wonders. 

“Because we were waiting for Corbin to be able to get up and moving again. We were just hanging out. I swear,” Weston says.

“Be that as it may...do you know that one of the campers you were with...their family lost a child?” Roman asks evenly.

“What do you mean?” Weston asks.

“Their child was taken from them. Abducted. Years ago,” Roman explains, eyes intense. “And can you imagine that phone call we almost had to make to that same set of parents.  _ ‘Hello, we can’t find your child…’ _ Can you imagine their anguish?’” Roman asks.

“But they were  _ with me _ ,” Weston protests. “ _ I _ was protecting them. I was  _ doing my job _ . Fran and Jesse wanted to go back alone, but I wouldn’t let them because it wasn’t safe.”

“I need your word,” Roman says. “This is very important,” he says, and Weston sits up. “I need your word that you will not take campers on nature hikes anymore.”

“I won’t,” Weston agrees. “I just didn’t know.”

“Okay. And if you want to take a group of campers anywhere, I need you to let me or Sylvan know first, so we know everyone is present and accounted for,” Koa says.

“Report my movements…and no more nature hikes,” Weston reviews. “Right?”

“Yes,” Roman agrees. “Thank you for coming in. Now, I don’t want you to miss dinner. Go get some food.”

“Okay.” Weston stops short. “But is this… Am I being fired?”

“No,” Roman says. He hands Weston a piece of paper, folded. “But I’ve added the things we discussed to the list I gave you earlier, so it’s clear what we reviewed. So you have something to refer to.”

“Okay,” Weston nods.

He and Koa walk out together.

“I appreciate how much you care about the campers. And you have a really strong protective instinct. These kids need that.” Koa reassures him as they walk.

“But…?” Weston asks.

“It can take a little time...a few missteps...to learn to protect them within the boundaries of Camp Bravery. We’re on your side, Weston. We want you to succeed here.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Weston says.

“There he is!” Nico announces. “You’ve been gone forever, you know that. But we saved you these chicken nuggets and these fries,” he says magnanimously, presenting Weston with the different serving bowls.

“Thanks,” Weston nods and begins loading his plate before he even sits down beside Sarah.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. We’ll talk later,” Weston tells her, making sure to eat as fast as he can so he doesn’t miss out.

“We went on the best nature walk ever,” Francesca enthuses. “We should do that every day. Don’t you think, Jesse?” 

Jesse nods.

“Sorry, but we’re not allowed,” Weston says, swallowing. 

“But we did it already,” Fran points out, confused.

“We weren’t really supposed to. So, I can hang out with you guys, but we’re not allowed on the trails because they’re close to the woods.” Weston says apologetically.

“Boo,” Nico says, giving a big thumbs down. “I love the woods.”

“You’ve never been in the woods,” Giselle points out.

“But I might love it if I tried it…” Nico points out.

Weston covertly checks out Fran and Jesse’s faces, both look a little let down but soon are involved in conversation again.

In no time, the bell rings again. Weston checks his schedule: Large Group Discussion. He only knows Sarah’s not leading tonight.

He wonders what could be coming next.


	22. Unspoken

Sarah has not managed to calm down yet. All she can think is just how relieved she is that Jolene doesn’t know about what happened. Come to think of it, Sarah’s relieved that none of her family know what happened.

While Jolene would worry after the fact, her mom would use the instance to demonstrate just how unwise it was for Sarah to adopt Weston in the first place. And Weston didn’t deserve to have every potential mistake he made used against him as proof of why he was unadoptable.

Especially when he was so absolutely adoptable.

Still, Sarah gives Taylor a heads up that she’d like a word with Weston, so Taylor knows it will be her, Olivia and Brighton keeping an eye on Fran, Giselle and Lexie.

“Are you really okay?” she asks as Weston sits down on the bench outside the dining hall.

“Fuck…” he mutters softly. “No. It was Roman and Koa...and me...and I thought I was gonna be fired or some shit…” Weston’s blue green eyes are troubled.

“That sounds scary,” Sarah sympathizes. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

“I just went for a walk with some of the campers. They asked me. But...turns out that one of them comes from a family that had their kid missing or something… Turns out, the whole camp had to stop and look for all of us...but I had them, Sarah. I kept them with me the whole time.”

“I believe you. But I hope you’ll tell someone before you go somewhere with the campers in the future,” Sarah says.

“I know,” he sighs. “I will,” he pauses a little and studies Sarah. “What?”

“I was worried, that’s all. I’m glad you’re okay.”

\--

Weston gets settled in The Living Room for their Large Group Discussion - this time sitting with the Sunshine cabins only and not branching out.

Brighton’s up and leading their song time, which lasts a few minutes. Then, they surprise Weston by not giving a speech at all:

“I think it’s important that you campers...all get the chance to talk about real stuff while you’re here. Whatever that is. And I know, from being on staff here this week, and training with the rest of these people...that a lot of you have things that come up around your relationship with your parents.”

“My parents are nice,” Nico responds.

“That’s good. I’m so glad your parents are nice. And this is not me saying, ‘Let’s say mean things about your parents.’ I’m just saying, this is a safe space to share things that they might do that are a little annoying...or that are bigger problems. Does anybody want to share?”

No one speaks.

Finally, one of the older campers says, “Mine expect nothing from me. They don’t know any disabled people, so anything I achieve is the best they’ve ever seen a disabled person do...even if it’s not  _ my _ best. They don’t expect me to leave home, or go to college, or anything.”

Brighton listens: “How do you feel about that?” they ask.

“I feel like, why even try at all? They’re so surprised when I bring home a good grade, just because my speech is affected. Just because I’m in a chair. Yeah, there are some areas I struggle, but even those don’t matter…”

“...Because they expect that you’d struggle,” Taylor comments.

“My parents are the opposite…” Francesca shares softly. “They expect us to be not-disabled even though we are disabled. I feel crushing feelings. Like impossible feelings. Like, I’ll never be able to do the things they want me to do.”

Weston sees Olivia send Fran a smile.

He hears his real mom’s voice - Ashley’s voice - in his head: “ _ You have to talk about nice things, or she will take you away from me and you won’t have any of your things. _ ”

He’d been five. Maybe. Just moved back in with Ashley after living with an early set of foster parents, and knowing the social worker was checking in, they made a list of nice things Weston could talk about. He even remembered some:

Preschool. Christmas presents. Toys he liked. His favorite shows.

All of a sudden, it hits Weston. Why the hell all these memories are coming back. Memories of a social worker. He remembers the intro emails the staff sent each other to get to know each other months before training.

Brighton is training to be a damn social worker.

No wonder they’re asking questions like this.

Weston sinks in his seat, feeling five again. He knows this isn’t for him. It’s for the campers. But there’s definitely that old feeling of being braced for something. He wants to warn the campers, don’t get too real, or you’ll get taken away. You’ll lose all your shit.

He sends a worried look to Sarah, who smiles reassuringly and raises her eyebrows, wondering if he needs her right this second.

Slightly, he shakes his head no.

\--

“One time, after a surgery, my mom… Well, I thought she was really disappointed in me and my brother. I thought she was wanting us to work harder in rehab. But she wasn’t really talking about us.” Lexie shares.

Fran listens, interested.

Moms definitely said stuff like that all the time - and they were talking about Fran. And Mari. She feels jealous of Lexie.

“Sometimes,” an older camper volunteers. “It’s not so much what they do but what they allow… Like, even if they don’t treat you bad themselves, they might not step in when someone else is. And that says the same thing to us.”

“Yeah, it’s--” Jesse speaks up, sounding excited, but he stops all of a sudden, going pale.

Lexie leans over, and Jesse whispers to her. “Yeah, Jesse says we have a cousin who’s done some really mean things to us. Our parents are, like… They help. But our aunt and uncle? They say rude things about us.”

“Giselle, did you want to share something?” Olivia asks and Francesca braces herself.

“My mom...I know she loves me. My dad, too. But they don’t  _ get _ me. I feel like no one does.”

Sarah speaks up then: “Giselle, you’re bringing up a really good point. What you’re feeling is the different cultures you and your parents are in...imagine them like invisible eggs or something? And if you meet another person like you, the egg grows bigger? But your parents’ egg just bumps up against yours. There’s always that barrier there.”

Giselle nods. “They love my brother and sister more. They’re happier around them. They like doing stuff with them...but I can’t tell anybody in my life because they all think my mom’s the best. She  _ is _ ...but she also hurts my feelings.”

“I feel like nobody gets me either..and my parents love my nondisabled brothers and sister more than the ones who are like me,” Fran shares looking shyly at Giselle. “My moms....a lot of people think they’re the best, too.”

Before Fran even knows it, Large Group is over, and Olivia snags Fran and Giselle both and brings them to the side.

“I saw you both trying to connect in there,” Olivia points out. “That’s a big deal, because I know things have been hard in your friendship lately. Is there anything you want to tell each other now?”

Fran thinks about Sarah’s old advice. Ask questions.

“Why have you been teasing me and Jonah?” she wonders.

“Because...you play with him and not me…” Giselle points out.

“How do you feel about that?” Olivia asks Giselle.

“Lonely. Like I don’t even fit in here. I’m the only ten year old. Everybody else is older. But I thought...you’d be my friend at least.”

“I am. I believe you about your parents,” Fran says honestly.

“Then why haven’t you been playing with me?” Giselle asks sadly.

“Because you’ve been acting like you and Lexie are new besties. You both have wheelchairs, and I don’t. Your beds are next to each other, and mine isn’t,” Fran points out.

“Do you notice,” Olivia points out, softly. “That the things you’re saying about Giselle being best friends with Lexie...they’re not things Giselle or Lexie can control? Their beds are next to each other, yes. Yes, they use chairs. But do you feel like it would be fair for someone to be mad at you for making a friend like you?”

“No…” Fran admits. “I just feel left out.”

“So? You like Dia, and not me. I feel left out of that,” Giselle points out.

“People can have more than one friend,” Olivia explains gently. “Even more than one best friend. So maybe, you two can make a plan and stick to it. Make a specific time that you’ll hang out together. So that you both don’t have to feel left out anymore. This is camp. It’s okay to have your feelings and talk about them. But it’s also the perfect place to figure out solutions.”

“Okay, Do you want to hang out before we go to bed?” Giselle asks. “You could come to my bed and talk?”

“Yeah. That’s a great idea. And I’m sorry I left you out and felt jealous you were getting to know Lexie...and Olivia…” Fran admits. “That seems kinda bossy of me.”

“Thanks,” Giselle says. “And I won’t say Jonah’s your boyfriend ever again.,,except that time...that was an accident,” she insists.

Fran laughs. “Bestie hug?” she asks.

“Bestie hug,” Giselle giggles, too, and hugs her back.

\--

“I’m triggered as hell...with Brighton the social work student telling all the campers to trash-talk their parents…” Weston admits to Sarah in a low voice as they get set for the Scavenger Hunt.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Sarah answers. “Do you need anything?”

“Just to tell you, I guess…” Weston manages. “I need to be able to keep being honest.”

“And you can be. And if you ever have any feelings about mistakes I’ve made, you can share them with me. You don’t have to keep them inside. You’re not going to lose everything if you share something about me that’s not one-hundred percent positive.” Sarah reassures.

Weston leans down and opens his arms. Sarah’s there to hug him, instantly.

“Sunshine cabins are gonna crush this Scavenger Hunt…” Weston says quietly in Sarah’s ear.

“Hell, yeah, we are,” she whispers back, giving him a squeeze. “I love you.”

“Love you,” he says and then lets her go.


	23. Clues

After the large group discussion, Francesca finds out the best news ever!

“Tonight, we are having a scavenger hunt!” Roman announces. “Your cabin’s clues will be color-coded with your cabin’s color. Sunshine cabins, your clues will be yellow…”

Francesca doesn’t listen to the other colors.

“Every clue will have a camper’s name on it, so everybody will get the chance to help figure out the next clue to get to the prize at the end. The first group to figure out all their clues will win a prize. Please celebrate quietly.” He says this last part with a grin.

Francesca and her friends are getting very good at celebrating quietly. She only makes little squeaks of joy.

“Who wins will not depend on who is the fastest but on which cabin can work together the best, to support each other and figure out their clues,” Roman says. “On your mark, get set, go!”

All the cabins take their first envelope. Sarah has theirs. She reads out.

“Clue number one. For Dia…”

Fran looks around, alarmed. “Oh, no. Dia’s not here…”

“Let’s see if we can find her,” Taylor says easily. She takes out an I-Pad from her bag and turns it on. Pushes a few buttons. “Dia? Are you there?”

Dia’s face appears on screen. She’s humming and smiling.

“We’re doing the Scavenger Hunt. Do you have the first clue?” Taylor asks.

Dia hums something that sounds like  _ yes _ and taps on her mom, nearby, who reads it out:

“ _ Full of paint and lots of laughs. Find your next clue in… _ Where can you find your next clue?” Dia’s mom prompts.

They all hold their breath and wait. Giselle looks like she wants to explode and tell everybody what she thinks the answer is. 

“I know it…” she whispers. “I think I know it…”

“But part of working together as a good team is respecting each other. This is Dia’s clue, so let’s let her answer it. If she needs help, we can offer help, but let’s not answer for her,” Olivia says gently.

Fran has not taken her eyes from Dia, who just finished spelling her answer:

_ Arts and Crafts! _

“Oh gosh! Dia, I want to go see if you’re right!” Fran says, and they rush over to arts and crafts together. 

She’s getting a ride on Brighton’s back, because it’s faster. Jesse’s getting a ride on Weston’s (also because it’s faster.) Nico is getting pushed by Sylvan. Lexie’s getting pushed by Taylor (while Lexie carries the I-Pad) and Giselle is getting pushed by Olivia. Sarah, Koa, Pablo and Jonah are just going by themselves.

They get to Arts and Crafts, and there’s another yellow envelope! “Yes! You were right, Dia!” Lexie cheers and shows her.

Pablo steps up and takes the next clue and reads it out. “This clue is for Corbin. Do we have Corbin?” he checks.

Fran glances around (and around and around) until Brighton points out, “Koa’s calling him, see?”

Then, Fran does. 

“Corbin. We really need your help. You have the second clue?” Koa asks.

_ Yes, _ Corbin answers, and a voice actually says the word inside the computer. It’s Corbin’s voice - he’s hitting all the buttons.

Pablo reads the clue:  _ “Where there’s sun and plants and snails, the next clue’s at the…” _

Fran almost answers it for Corbin, but she puts a hand over her mouth at the last minute. They wait for him to spell it, and hit the button that reads his answer:

“Nature trail.”

They take off again, Fran bumping along on Brighton’s back.

“The next clue is for Francesca…” Brighton grins over their shoulder, and Sarah comes over to hold the clue for them so they can keep hold of Fran.

Fran reads it out loud.

_ “Need to get all nice and cool? Find the next clue at the…” _

“Lake!” Nico yells.

“No!” Giselle laughs. “It has to rhyme!”

But that actually gives Fran the hint she needs. “Swimming pool!” she calls out. “Let’s go!”

Fran is right, and they find the next clue taped to the doors of the swimming building. “This next one’s for Jesse,” Koa reads off.  _ “We eat our meals here, big and small, the next clue’s in the…” _

“The dining hall…” Jesse offers in a kind of quiet voice with a smile.

They find Giselle’s clue at one of the tables.  _ “This sound wakes us up so well...our next clue is at the…” _

“I don’t know…” Giselle worries.

“Do you need a clue?” Olivia asks.

“Yeah,” Giselle worries. “I’m going to mess it up for everybody, I know it. We’re going to lose because of me.”

“Hey,” Fran says, after whispering to Brighton, so they set Fran down carefully. Fran walks over to Giselle. “We’ll figure it out. The clue is in the words, I think.”

“This  _ sound _ wakes us up so well…” Jonah remembers.

“When we woke up this morning, what sound did it?” Fran wonders.

“The… The bell!” Giselle exclaims. “That’s right outside!”

They all race to the bell where they find Jonah’s clue. It’s super hard:

Sylvan reads it:  _ “Need a kickball, round and red? Find the next clue in the…” _

Jonah thinks about this. For a whole minute, and then his face lights up: “The equipment shed!” he announces. “Come on!”

Lexie’s clue is next, and Olivia reads it:  _ “Where large group discussions go to bloom, you’ll find the next clue in the….” _

“The…” Lexie looks around, stumped. “Garden? Does camp have a garden?”

“Lexie. Large group discussions,” Jesse says. “Where did we just have that?”

“Oh! The Living Room!” she screams, and Fran is just hoping that Dia and Corbin still have their headphones on.

They find the last clue on the closed door of the living room. The last clue is for Nico.

“I want to read it!” Nico insists. “ _ Your prize...is found...where snacks...are seen...you’ll find it inside the _ ....canteen!” he shrieks. “We have to go to the canteen right heckin’ now!”

Fran laughs, and they all take off for the canteen. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaims. There’s only one clue there in an envelope that’s striped purple, yellow and green. Not one envelope of each color. That means…

Nico reaches up to take the envelope with Weston’s help and opens it. 

“We win!” Nico cheers.

They all cheer, sort of quietly and laugh when Nico asks, confused, “Wait. What do we win?”

“You all win a dollar credit to your canteen accounts, so you can get one thing that costs a dollar anytime this week.” Koa explains.

“Oh, my gosh!” Fran squeaks. “Sunshine cabins won!  _ We won _ ! We all worked together, and we’re the youngest group, and we won!”

They all huddle together and hang onto each other. 

“Good job, everybody!” Jonah says. “Dia and Corbin, you started us off so strong.”

“You did,” Fran tells them. “Dia didn’t even have any clues, and she found out it was a rhyme.”

_ Some clues _ , Dia points out.

“Okay, you had some clues,” Fran agrees, “But it was still really good. And Giselle, you got a little bit stumped, but you let us help you figure it out, because yours was a really hard clue…” 

Giselle’s face lights up. “You did a good job, too.”

“You all did great,” Sarah says. “Let’s say bye to Corbin and Dia. You guys can feel free to use your canteen credit anytime we have free time this week, okay?”

“Bye,” everybody says, and the tablets go black.

“Canteen’s up next, and everybody has enough for a snack tonight if you’d like one. You can also save your credit for a different day if you’d rather,” Sarah explains.

“I’m using my winning credit right now!” Nico exclaims. “To buy a Star Bar, because I’m a star!”

They all laugh. Fran decides to get one of those really good ice cream cones with the fudge in the bottom and chocolate and nuts on top. 

She has to wait in line for a while.

But it’s worth it.

She feels so proud she could explode.

Her cabin won.

And she was a part of the winning.

They figured out every single clue together as a team. And they won.

Fran never wants to lose this feeling. Like, she did something fair and square. Like she was part of an effort. And everybody was valid and did their best…

And for once in their lives...their best was exactly enough.


	24. Fear

Francesca sits down in the grass, in the same spot as yesterday, right near Jonah. She’s still excited from winning the scavenger hunt, but her mind is on Large Group Discussion, and she knows Jonah won’t be in the girls’ cabin tonight when they talk with each other about parent stuff.

“I remember…” she ventures, as Jonah licks his red white and blue Bomb Pop. “I remember what you wrote when you sent me and my brother and sister questions…”

Jonah just licks his popsicle and listens.

“Your dad did that to you?” Fran checks. She doesn’t say it out loud. Even though it’s camp, and even though they should be able to be free to be honest about their feelings and stuff, Jonah’s experiences aren’t Fran’s to share.

“Yeah,” Jonah answers softly.

“Even though I didn’t know you then...I felt like I could trust you because you told me about what happened to you…” Fran admits. She scoots closer to Jonah. They’re off to the side, with no one else around them. It’s as close to privacy as she can get out here. “Mine hurt me, too.”

Jonah’s eyes are the saddest Fran has ever seen. “I’m sorry.”

“Not my dad. I mean… My moms have. It got so bad that, like, I left and had my big brother pick me up and me and him and my sister stayed away for like two weeks, until Moms went to the workshop.”

“Wow…” Jonah says.

“Somebody even reported them…” Fran confides. “But my mom is a cop, so…”

“My dad was a nurse. He led my scout troop. Coached Little League baseball. Everyone loved him. I still see people in my town who ask me how he is because they remember him coaching or taking care of their relative or something. I never know what to say.”

“So, nobody believed you and your mom, right?” Fran asks.

“Well...I was young, so I don’t know what happened really, but I know I was really relieved when I didn’t have to see him anymore…” Jonah shares.

Fran thoughtfully licks her ice cream. A monitor beeps on the equipment attached to Jonah by his ventilator tubing. Prim sits up, alert, but Jonah says it’s no big deal and shuts it off. When it’s quiet again, she says, “You’re lucky you don’t have to live with yours…”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” Jonah comments seriously. His face is so sad. “No kid should ever be hurt like we were...are? Are they still?” he asks carefully, adjusting his glasses.

“Not in the same way, but before Christmas, guess what?” she checks softly.

“What?” he wonders.

“They went shopping and said they couldn’t wait for me, so they left me home all by myself. They took all the rest of my brothers and sisters that wanted to go,” Fran says. 

“It hurts the worst when your family breaks your trust,” Jonah observes. “Doesn’t it?”

“I don’t get it…” Fran admits.

“Well...as a kid...you trusted your parents to not leave you out, right? Kids at school might, even your brothers or sisters might, if you’re the youngest, like us.”

“You’re a youngest?” Fran asks, intrigued.

“Technically…” Jonah allows. “So, if you trusted your parents to never leave you out and they did, then they broke your trust.” 

Fran shifts uneasily. She doesn’t like the idea of Moms breaking her trust, even though it’s one thousand percent true. She can’t trust them. On so many levels.

“...Actually, I’m still really worried about my big sister. She has a disability like us, and Moms were really mean to her. They’re less mean now...but still…” Fran explains, trying to respect Mari’s privacy but just give the information that matters.

“Does she have somewhere safe to go like you did?” Jonah asks.

“I think she’s pretty much living with my brother this week. They’re twins, like Jesse and Lexie,” Fran says.

“Cool,” Jonah answers. He seems far away.

“I know...like...we’ve basically only known each other for a day or something, but you can trust me. You know, if you need to talk or whatever...like...about your dad feelings?” Fran offers.

“Thank you,” Jonah says. “Sometimes, people act like I should be over it. Like, because I was so young when it was happening. But that’s exactly why I can’t forget it. And I know the counselors want us to open up to them...and I know some of them know what it’s like, even...but...sometimes it’s just easier to talk to someone my own age.”

“I have a lot of older siblings and older friends and stuff...but I don’t really get the chance to talk to other kids with disabilities like mine. Not about real stuff anyways. Like, Giselle is nice. But she’s also young, and she...I don’t know… We don’t talk about that stuff. Which I used to like, but now I’m thinking…”

“What are you thinking?” Jonah wonders.

“Why shouldn’t we talk about it? Especially here. It  _ is _ a part of us,” Fran shrugs, brushing off her hands. “Hey, are you gonna be in the talent show?”

“I think our whole cabin is doing something,” Jonah shares. “Are you?”

“Maybe,” Fran grins a little, secretive. “I maybe have a talent.”

“You maybe have a talent?” Jonah asks, laughing. “Fran, I’ve known you for twenty four hours, and I’m positive you have many.”

“Oh gosh,” Fran giggles, embarrassed. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You’re encouraging. You’re fun. You’re a great listener,” Jonah lists.

“Well, you’re emphatic,” Fran shoots back, a little angry. 

“Oh,” Jonah says, startled. “I… What?” he asks, confused.

“You feel people’s feelings with them,” Fran grumbles.

“Empathetic,” Jonah realizes, saying the word gently. “Why are you upset?”

“Because compliments are crappy,” Fran complains. “Nobody ever means them. Just like that one older kid said tonight. People are so impressed that we can like...be outside… It’s annoying.”

“But I meant my compliments to you. Did you mean mine?” Jonah asks.

“I guess…” Fran admits. “It’s just confusing. Living the whole rest of my life, like, just ready for people to be jerks…”

“You can relax here. It’s okay to be yourself. And to have people tell you what your good qualities are. I know we can’t always trust our parents, but...if you wanted to… Maybe we could trust each other?” Jonah asks so openly.

“Yeah,” Fran admits. “I guess we could trust each other. Sorry I got mad.”

“No harm done,” Jonah tells her. He offers her the end of his popsicle. 

Fran shakes her head. “You have it. It’s blue raspberry. Besides, I’m not trading the end of this cone. It has the best chocolate in it,” she decides, crunching on it.

“Oh, rub it in,” Jonah laughs easily.

Fran laughs, too.


	25. Speak

Once they’re back in the cabin, Sarah knows it’s time for Small Group Discussion. She’s not sure how it will go over, since on the first day, everyone was so exhausted by this time, but Fran seems eager to share.

“You know how sometimes when something happens, and then parents are just like treating you bad, and it sucks?” Fran asks.

Sarah’s about to ask if she wants to be any more specific, but Lexie and Giselle don’t seem to need any specifics.

“My parents don’t treat me bad,” Lexie says. “Just my cousin and my aunt and uncle.”

“Mine don’t either, they just don’t understand me,” Giselle says.

“Oh.” Fran wilts.

“But you can still share, Fran,” Taylor encourages. “We want to hear from you.”

“My parents sometimes push me to do things I’m not ready to do,” Olivia offers. “They think if I tell them I can’t, it’s me being stubborn, or not trying hard enough. But it’s not.”

“It’s like...not fair if you have something happen to you even, and then your parents are maybe, like, always wanting the old you to come back and stuff…” Fran offers.

Sarah knows instantly that Francesca’s talking about her older sister, Mariana, and the car accident she was in a couple years back that resulted in Mariana sustaining a brain injury. Something Stef and Lena Adams Foster weren’t shy about documenting. And sharing for the entire world to see.

Word has it that the updating stopped abruptly after the one year mark. Sarah wouldn’t know. She’s never looked except for the one time.

It makes her glad that the internet didn’t exist when everything changed for her, or it’s very possible that Sarah could have lived most of her life with her recovery documented just like Mariana’s had been.

Sarah’s mind drifts back in time. She can’t remember her own accident, but she remembers the last time she went home for Christmas. 




Just shy of two months after Weston’s adoption was finalized. At 14, he’d been swinging between being the best behaved teenager, and struggling to figure out just where the boundaries were in his new family...house...life...

Francesca’s words about parents who want the old you to come back after something happens hit very close to home...

\--

_ “At least it’s not on a Monday this year…” Mom says cryptically. “Weston, I’m sorry in advance, honey, Christmas isn’t the happiest holiday around here.” _

_ “Oh. It’s fine,” Weston reassures. _

_ Dad’s carrying Sarah into the house. He’s already made one trip for her chair. “This was easier when you and the chair were both smaller,” he says, smiling. _

_ “Yeah, I know,” Sarah says, apologetic.  _

_ “It’s not easy on your old man,” Dad remarks, finally setting her into her chair.  _

_ Sarah breathes a sigh of relief. _

_ Weston, who has hung back is at her side now. “Why is it good it’s not on a Monday?” he whispers. _

_ “Oh, because the incident...it happened on a Monday,” Mom shares, overhearing. “My wrist still aches every time it rains. And I swear it gets worse on the 22nd.” _

_ “Why?” Weston wonders. _

_ “Sarah, haven’t you told him anything?” Mom asks, shocked. She takes Weston’s hand, and he pulls away. They’re heading for the kitchen island, which is about as inaccessible as you can get in Mom and Dad’s house. There’s no way she can transfer there independently...and she’s not allowed to say ‘can’t,’ so, she’s stuck. Again. _

_ Down on the floor while Mom and Weston are seated way above her eyeline and talking across from each other. _

_ Mom is deep into telling Weston every detail of her trauma. He looks uncomfortable. Even more so when Mom goes to the living room to get the framed photo of almost-3-year-old Sarah on Santa’s lap, smiling. _

_ “This is from that day…” Mom says, blinking back tears. “My perfect little girl…” _

_ “Shit. This is  _ that day _?” Weston asks in a tone Sarah can’t read. _

_ “We were coming back from visiting Santa, and that’s when… Well, that’s why I refuse to drive in the snow anymore…not that that’s a worry in San Diego...so glad we moved.” Mom says. “Look at that dress. Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers. That was her favorite show, and look at them in little Santa hats with Christmas lights. And that adorable skirt. There was nothing left of it after they…”  _

_ Sarah clears her throat. “Where are Sam and Stephen? And is Jolene coming?” she asks. _

_ “Oh, they’ll be here in a bit. I wanted some time to get to know Weston before all the festivities. Would you like some food?”  _

_ “Yeah,” Weston agrees. “I mean, yes. Please.” _

_ “Does Mom have to do this every year?” Sarah laments to Dad as he watches football in the living room. The tree’s in the corner, loaded with presents underneath, and the empty place on the mantle is where the picture of Sarah always sits. _

_ It’s the worst day of her life. _

_ She’s asked Jolene. So Sarah knows just how deeply she was affected, even as a toddler. _

_ “Oh honey. That was a hard time for all of us. Including your mother. It helps her to share.” Dad remarks. _

_ “She wanted one of those baby dolls that crawls and falls down and cries, you know?” Mom’s saying. _

_ “Sure,” Weston agrees easily. _

_ A backward glance reveals him with a bowl of holiday Chex Mix and a piece of pumpkin pie with whipped cream in front of him. Sarah’s positive Weston’s never heard of the doll Mom’s describing, but he’s agreeing. Doing his best to be his best. To make a good impression. Even though Sarah’s told him he can just be himself. _

_ History has told him that’s just not true. _

_ And two months of stability post-adoption isn’t a lot of time for him to feel secure. _

_ “Well, we just felt so bad because of what happened. I had the doll picked out, but I gave it away…” Mom goes on. _

_ “What?” Sarah asks, coming back to the kitchen. This detail is new to her. “Jolene said you couldn’t find one. That they were sold out.” _

_ Sarah notices the way Weston watches back and forth between them, wary. How he’s put his fork down, but continues to guard his plate. _

_ “It’s okay,” Sarah reassures him. “This is just...different from what I’ve grown up hearing… Why would you give away my doll?” Sarah asks, turning to Mom now. _

_ “Honey, what are you going to do with a silly old doll? At your age?” Mom says, and Sarah’s cheeks burn. Mom putters around the kitchen some more. “If you must know...your dad and I thought it would be in bad taste to give you a doll who could do something you couldn’t do.” _

_ Sarah stares, incredulous. “You gave her away because she could crawl?” _

_ “Well, yes, we didn’t want to be insensitive…” Mom says. “If this had never happened...who knows where you’d be now…” _

_ Weston looks troubled, and Sarah knows they’d better grab a minute alone before Stephen and Sam arrive and things get ten times more loud. _

_ \-- _

_ Weston sits on the bed in Sarah’s old room. _

_ It’s super pink. Like disturbingly. _

_ Sarah sits in front of him, just quietly waiting. _

_ “I’m sorry I ruined your doll…” he admits finally, his voice a whisper. _

_ Sarah looks confused and then sad and then, finally, like she knows what the hell Weston’s talking about.  _

_ It was a couple of months ago, just after the adoption. He’d found this doll. This doll that looked just the fuck like Chevy-Katie, except, it was a bald baby with green eyes and a yellow dress. _

_ “I just...found it and I got mad...like… You have this. You got to keep so much shit from your life. You know? And it pissed me off, so I...I found the Sharpie and I drew fangs and eyebrows on its little bald face… I didn’t… I didn’t know they threw away your other doll.” _

_ “They didn’t, Weston. They didn’t throw it away. They gave it to somebody else. Another kid.” Sarah explains. _

_ Weston slumps over. Knowing that doesn’t help at all. “She’s not sorry,” he observes sadly. _

_ Sarah just listens, her face open. _

_ “I am,” he offers, meaning it down to his soul. He’d give anything to find Chevy-Katie again. To have him back. “I’ll clean her off. She’ll be good as new. That’s what you’re always talking about, right? Apologizing and making things right?” _

_ “That’s right,” Sarah nods. _

_ “I’m doing it,” Weston tells her seriously. _

_ “I’m proud of you,” Sarah tells him. “We’ll figure out how to clean her off together.” _


	26. Friendship

On Tuesday morning, Francesca’s excited when she hears the bell ring to wake them up. Because she knows that means she’s gonna hear some singing, and she’s going to like it a lot.

She’s not disappointed. 

This morning, Sarah sings all of  _ Wake Me Up _ by Avicii, but she does it a little slower. Kind of like it’s sad. Francesca can’t wait to be able to have that kind of musical brain.

When Sarah’s done, they all clap. 

Then Taylor and Brighton lip-sync  _ Viva La Vida _ by Coldplay, and that’s funny. It distracts her a little from getting ready, but Fran tries to stay on task. 

Fran’s trying to figure out what to do with her hair when Taylor comes in the bathroom and says, “What part of today are you most excited for?”

“None, if I can’t figure out what to do with my hair…” Fran balks. She pauses, and thinks about it, remembering Taylor being so happy about Fran asking for help yesterday. “Could you, maybe…? The braids you do help keep it calm.”

“Just call me the Hair Whisperer,” Taylor jokes, and it is funny, but Fran doesn’t totally get it.

Francesca wants to ask Taylor a ton of questions, but she doesn’t want to seem rude. So she just sits quietly and Taylor does her hair and hums  _ Oh, What a Beautiful Morning _ .

When they’re almost done, Fran admits, “I liked talking to Giselle last night...but she mostly likes to talk about stuff she’s doing.”

  
“Yeah?” Taylor asks.

Fran keeps her voice down and checks the door to make sure Giselle’s not close enough to hear and get her feelings hurt. “Like...what she plays and she wants to know what I play...but like...I’m really excited to get to know Dia more. We can go even deeper with our talks. Kinda like me and Jonah.”

“It’s okay to have different friends for different times in life. Or different friends you talk about different things with. Someday, you may not wanna go deep. Someday it might only feel cool if you talk about...I don’t know...your island on Animal Crossing or something…”

“My what?” Fran asks laughing.

“Just trust me. It’s okay,” Taylor says, confident. “And you are done. And I’m super glad to hear you’re excited to keep making friends with Dia and Jonah. That’s awesome.”

Taylor puts out a hand for a high five, and Fran gives her one.

“Update: Francesca? Still has awesome hair. Still asking for help like a rockstar.”

Francesca giggles. “Rockstars don’t ask for help.”

“Sure they do. Nobody’s strong alone,” Taylor tells her, and winks as she holds the door for Fran.

\--

The day just gets better from there. For breakfast? There’s egg bacon and cheese biscuit sandwiches and hashbrowns. Francesca sings the Camp Bravery song loudly as she can. And she’s super excited to find out whatever the secret camptivity is tonight.

At horseback riding, Francesca can barely concentrate at all. She keeps looking around for Dia. And when she finally comes, it’s the biggest relief.

It’s the first time Fran’s really paid attention when Dia gets dropped off. There’s a younger girl with Dia, and Fran goes to meet them.

“Hey Dia!” she greets.

Dia smiles, rocking a little back and forth on her feet. She’s wearing a black tee shirt with a bright periodic table of the elements on it. It says: I WEAR THIS SHIRT PERIODICALLY...WHEN I’M IN MY ELEMENT. It makes Fran smile and also think of Mariana and Dominique, who would probably get all of Dia’s science jokes.

“Hey, I’m Francesca,” Fran introduces herself to the younger girl with Dia.

“Oh, _ you’re _ Fran!” the girl’s face lights up. “Good! I’m Sky. I’m Dia’s sister. Dia, do you want to give Fran your note?”

Dia hums, still smiling, and Sky helps her find the note in her bag.

She holds the note in both hands until Fran checks, “Is that for me?”

Dia hums yes again.

“Can I take it?” Fran wonders.

Dia nods.

“Okay, bye Dia. We’ll be back tonight, okay?” Sky says, giving Dia a hug.

Then, Fran reaches out for Dia’s hand, and Dia takes it. They walk over to a spot on the grass and sit. It’s sort of near where Weston is sitting with Corbin. Fran wonders if Corbin will be able to stand the helmet in order to ride today. She hopes he can.

“Should I open this?” Fran wonders, gesturing to the piece of notebook paper.

Dia hums yes.

Fran unfolds the paper and finds a message written in red pen:

FOR MY NEW FRIEND, FRANCESCA,

I WANT YOU TO KNOW I LOVE PEOPLE FOR WHO THEY ARE. I WANT YOU TO KNOW I LOVE SCIENCE AND ART AND I HAVE A SISTER, SKY, WHO REMINDS ME OF YOU SO MUCH. SHE IS 12.

WHAT DO YOU LOVE?

DO YOU HAVE A SISTER?

HOW OLD ARE YOU?

YOU ARE VERY KIND AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMPLIMENTS ON MY PAINTING. YOUR COOKIES ARE MY FAVORITE.

LOVE, DIA

\--

“I love…” Fran muses. “I love music. And I love...streaming TV shows. I love sloths. And I love...being with my friends, but I don’t have many who are the same age as me. And who know what it’s like.”

Fran gets a pen out of her Franny pack and writes back some of her answers under Dia’s questions, in case Dia wants to respond later.

“Oh, see? This is my Franny pack. It’s a fanny pack, but I call it my Franny pack, just because I think it’s funny. See? It has sloths on it,” Fran points out.

Dia’s not exactly looking at Fran, but Fran knows that doesn’t mean she isn’t paying attention. 

Francesca pauses at the second question. And writes as she says… “I...have...two...sisters. And...three...brothers. I’m...the...youngest. I’m...12.” Fran glances up. “Like your sister. Hey, no wonder she reminds you of me.”

They’re just sitting and waiting their turn when Jesse comes and sits down near them. “Look. Corbin’s up,” he says.

“Oh, yes!” Fran cheers quietly. “Good job, Corbin!” she calls in a super indoor voice. (She’s getting so good at quiet cheering this week.)

They watch for a while and then Jesse says, “You know, when we were getting ready to go to camp?”

“Yeah?” Fran answers.

“My very rude cousin? She was like, “Why are you even going to that camp?” And also...I heard my parents talking all about how Lexie really needs this…”

Dia taps Jesse on the leg.

“Dia’s right,” Fran says after a pause. “You’re saying Jesse needs camp, too, right?” 

Again, Dia taps Jesse.

“Thanks,” Jesse says to Dia softly. “I keep, like...trying to talk to people in my cabin...about how it feels to be like us? To have disabilities but nobody can even see them?”

“And what do they say?” Fran wonders, curious.

“They say to talk to Koa. And I don’t really  _ want _ to talk to Koa. He’s okay, but he’s not our age. Plus he even said, he didn’t get a disability until he was grown up, and that’s different.”

Dia taps Francesca on the shoulder, rocking a little and humming.

“Oh. Did you want to say something about how it feels to be like us?” Fran asks, holding up her hands.

_ Yes. _

“Okay. How does it feel to be like us?” Fran wonders. And she holds out the stencil board a little nervously.

Olivia walks over. “Need to say something, Dia? I can hold that for you.” she offers. 

It takes Dia some extra time to make her body do the things today. Maybe she’s nervous too, or just feeling a lot of what Jesse and Francesca are.

“L-O-N-E-L-Y. It feels lonely. Yeah, it does, you’re right, Dia.” Fran says.

“I almost wasn’t even allowed to come here. Do you know that? I heard my parents talking…” Jesse shares.

“When they said that Lexie really needs this?” Fran wonders.

“Yeah,” Jesse agrees.

“What about what you need, though?” Olivia asks. 

Jesse shrugs. “I guess I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to be fine, though,” Olivia encourages him.

He looks into the distance where Lexie’s riding a horse right now. “I don’t know how  _ not _ to be fine.”

“I think it might be honesty,” Fran ventures. 

Jesse’s quiet, taking that in.

“You know we love you, right?” Olivia tells Fran, Dia and Jesse. “All three of you have just as much a right as anyone else does to be here. This camp is for us, too.”

And Fran realizes then that Olivia must know what it’s like just like they do. It feels a little better, hearing from an adult who just gets it.

“Okay,” Fran agrees.

“Yeah. Okay,” Jesse says.

Dia puts her arms around both of them.

When it’s Fran’s turn to ride, she feels even taller.

\--

“I want to try to paint Dia-style today,” Fran ventures. “Can you show me?”

At first it seems like Dia isn’t listening, but then Francesca realizes she’s showing her right now. So, Fran pays attention and starts kind of doing Dia’s technique.

Time flies by, and Fran doesn’t even hear anybody else’s conversation. She’s lost in the greens and blues of her painting. It’s the best thing she’s ever made.

When it dries, she rolls it up and puts a rubberband around it.

“This is for you, Dia…” Fran says, feeling shy.

Dia doesn’t take it, but she smiles a little.

“You can set it down here,” Olivia encourages. “I’ll make sure it gets back to the cabin with you, okay, Dia?”

Dia nods.

\--

It’s on Fran’s way out of the cabin that she remembers talking to Sarah yesterday about stuff.

“I liked your song this morning,” Fran calls, and Sarah slows down for her. 

“Thanks,” Sarah answers.

“I wish I could sing like you…” Fran admits.

“Do you sing?” Sarah asks.

“Kinda. I’m gonna sing at the talent show on Thursday. Only don’t tell anyone. I want it to be a surprise,” Fran urges.

“Okay. Well, if you need any help with your song, let me know,” Sarah encourages.

“Okay,” Fran answers. She’s huffing and puffing even though Sarah’s going slowly. 

They finally stop outside the dining hall. Fran sits on the bench there. “Sarah?” she asks. “You know how we were talking about stuff yesterday?”

“I do,” Sarah says, and Fran feels like the only person in the whole Camp Bravery right now. Like Sarah has nowhere else to be.

“Like...it kinda bothers me that my moms...they like...think we have all this in common...being not straight…” Fran whispers that part because more kids are gathering around the bell. “But they don’t get it, because they don’t get every single part, you know?”

“Because it’s not just that part,” Sarah says, and Fran breathes a sigh of relief. “Disability is a piece of it, too. A piece they can’t relate to. Maybe a piece they don’t fully accept…”

“Yup,” Fran says sadly. “So, it’s like...they think they know me. Or get me or something. That we have this huge thing in common. I think they even think they accept me, but I know they really don’t,” Fran says.

“It’s okay that there are pieces of this that your moms don’t get,” Sarah encourages. “That’s why you have us. Parents...they can’t give us everything we need. Some people’s can. But mine...they just were never able to. So, it’s okay to get what you need from other people. You can talk about this with me. You can talk about another piece with Taylor. Something else with Jesse, or Dia, or Olivia.”

“It’s just...my grandma? Every single time she sees me she’s like,  _ ‘Francesca, when are you getting a boyfriend? Do you have a boyfriend yet?’  _ And the last time I saw her? Because my brother’s wife just had a baby, you know? Grandma said the same thing as usual, and my brother and my moms all were, like, snickering. Like she said the funniest thing. And I felt...just wrong. I usually feel wrong anyways, because I never have a boyfriend when she asks, but now...it was worse.” Francesca sighs.

“I’m so sorry you have to deal with that. And I’m sorry your moms allow it.” Sarah says. “There is nothing wrong with you for not having a boyfriend. And there is nothing wrong with taking time to figure out who you are and who you like. It’s okay if you realize more stuff about that as you get older, or if you grow or change in some way.”

“Like thinking you’re gay and being bi?” Fran asks.

“Or thinking you’re a lesbian and being ace…” Sarah ventures. “You don’t have to be boxed into just one thing. And you’re right. There is more to it for us, being disabled.”

“And more for me being multi-ethnic and being disabled…and that other piece,” Fran says, trying out the word that she heard Vice President Harris use to describe herself.

“That’s definitely true. You can talk to me...about that other part and being disabled anytime.” Sarah offers. “But I think we should go get some lunch. I heard it’s fish sticks and perogies…”

“What’s a perogi?” Fran wonders.

“Do you know what a dumpling is?” Sarah asks, opening the door for Fran.

“Oh! Like on all the baking shows on Netflix!” Fran realizes.

“Right,” Sarah nods.

“Thanks,” Fran says, as the door shuts behind them. “You know, for the talk.”

“Anytime,” Sarah answers.


	27. Rest

Francesca is actually looking forward to rest time today because she knows now, it’s when the letters come.

Sure enough, there’s one from Miss Nia just waiting for her on her bed.

Francesca rips it open - but carefully.

It says:

_ Dear Francesca, _

_ I miss you kids so much. Y’all brought so much life to the house. Levi and Pearl and the dogs were in the other day. We talked and had some pie. _

_ It’s pretty warm up here for this time of year. No more snow. Don’t worry. So we are enjoying the weather. Sometimes, I head out to Levi and Pearl’s and we sit down by the lake. _

_ What are you getting to do at camp that you can’t do at home? Are you getting the chance to make friends? Need anything? _

_ I loved getting to know you, Francesca and I’m always here if you need something.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Miss Nia _

\--

Francesca hurries to write back:

_ Dear Miss Nia, _

_ What kind of pie did you have? I have sat by that very same lake. I thought it would be more exiting but it wasn’t actually. It’s okay if you think it is, though. _

_ Things I am getting the chance to do at camp that I cannot do at home. _

  * _Get to know one of my counselors who is half-Asian just like me._


  * Meet and talk to other kids who have disabilities like me.


  * Have 100% of a grownups attention and have them help me but not make me feel bad about it.


  * Scavenger Hunt! My team won!


  * Ride horses.



_ I am making friends with Jonah and Dia. They are both older than me, but age doesn’t really matter that much here. Jonah is very nice and gentle and funny. Dia is thoughtful and honest and such a good artist. I do not need anything except more time here...and maybe some more letters, to. _

_ Love you a lot, _

_ Fran _

\--

In shocking news, once she is done sticking Miss Nia’s new letter in its envelope, Fran sees it’s almost time for Swimming and Boating. Oh no. She hurries to write back to Dia.

_ I like singing and streaming shows and being with friends. I am 12. I have 2 sisters (Mariana and Callie) and 3 brothers (Jesus, Jude and Brandon) all older. That is probably why I wanted to be friends with you, because I am used to older siblings. Is that why you want to be friends with me? The opposite reason? _

_ P.S. Thank you for saying you love people for who they are. That makes me feel better. _

_ Love, Francesca _

She hands the note to Olivia who delivers it to Dia. Then, Fran puts on her headphones to listen to her song for the talent show and thinks about Sarah’s offer to help. She’s never had help with singing, except for from Mariana and Callie. What would it be like to get help from someone other than them?

“Okay, campers!” Brighton calls, in a sort of quiet voice. “It’s almost time to get ready for boating. So, that means dress in whatever you swim in, plus you’ll be wearing life jackets. And we’ll be in the lake this time, not the pool.”

“Maybe Jonah can do boating…” Fran muses.

Just then, Dia and Olivia walks over, and Dia drops a piece of paper in Fran’s lap. She opens it and reads:

I TRULY THINK OF YOU THE SAME AS MY SKY. YOU ARE MINE TO PROTECT.

LOVE, DIA

Fran feels so many feelings inside her. It’s like, Dia has this way of talking that makes the words so powerful. Plus, she loves notes the best of anything and she already has Dia’s all folded up in her Franny pack because Dia wouldn’t keep it.

Dia holds both hands out in front of her, and Fran is confused. 

“Ah,” Olivia said. “I mentioned you might feel better if you had a choice in what Dia wrote? So she’s offering you yes or no choices right now, I believe… Right, Dia?”

Dia hums yes.

“Do I want you to protect me?” Fran asks. “Which is your ‘yes’ hand?” she asks.

Dia grins and reaches out with one. Fran holds it for a second, and her throat kind of closes. Because not enough people protect each other.

“Yes,” Francesca manages, even though her voice sounds deep and emotional. “I want you to protect me.”

Dia just keeps holding Fran’s hand.

“Hey, Fran and Dia, it’s boating time,” Taylor encourages.

And just like that, Fran remembers she has to get ready.

\--

Boating is pretty fun. But first they have to float on the lake water in their life jackets (except for Jonah because of safety.) The life jacket Fran has on is not like the one the Avoiders bought her.

Floating makes her feel nervous and she is not the only one.

Giselle starts panicking, even though she has a life jacket and Taylor holding onto her.

“Okay,” Fran hears Taylor tell Giselle and she helps her stand up in the water again. “We don’t have to do that if you’re not ready.”

The best part is when they’re actually in the boats with the pedals in them. She gets one with Taylor and Jonah and Weston. 

Taylor is singing a song about a yellow submarine. 

“But our boat is blue…” Fran points out.

“Good point,” Weston echoes.

Jonah and Taylor laugh. 

“Hey, do you and Dia want to read more Harry Potter? Or do something else?” Jonah asks.

“I don’t know. We should ask Dia, and see what she wants to do.” Fran muses.

“Right,” Jonah nods.

When boating is finally done and Fran’s dressed again she meets Jonah outside. He has a bag of sour cream and cheese chips from the canteen.

Fran pats her dinosaur bag. She still has plenty of Cheetos, Golden Grahams, cookies and Dementor bars.

“Do you want to read again?” she asks Dia when she’s dressed again, too.

Dia nods and they walk together. 

This is getting to be Fran’s favorite time of day.

This time when Giselle and Lexie pass them, Giselle just waves and says, “We’re going to play on the computers!”

“We’re going to the library,” Fran says.

They’re finally getting along.

Plus, Fran hears this amazing thing she’s probably not supposed to hear yet, but she can’t help it.

On his way out for his break, she hears Weston talk about the camptivity for the night: baking their own homemade pizzas! Outside! On a fire!


	28. Wired

When Weston and Sarah get to their usual break spot, both with coffees and food to tide them over, Weston doesn’t know what to say.

He’s been here 48 hours and already made a colossal error. There’s not enough time to slow down. To actually talk to anyone, or process what the hell is going on. The few minutes he’s managed to grab with Mister are just not doing it for him.

“How are you?” she asks, and it’s like that question alone is enough to undo him. Then, she keeps talking and it’s worse. “I feel like we haven’t gotten to connect really since yesterday, and a lot’s happened…”

Weston swallows the burn in his throat, but then figures “What the hell?” and lets the tears come after all.

“Yeah?” Sarah says, as if he’s actually talking to her.

“I just...I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” he manages quietly. “My brain - it’s like I’m not wired for it or something…”

“Why do you say that?” Mister asks.

“Because...the training was clearly enough...for you and for everybody else on this fucking staff, but it wasn’t enough for me...I just… I fuck up everything,” Weston manages.

“What did you fuck up?” she wonders, like she really has no idea.

“Come on. I  _ know _ you know I had to see Roman. After I took the kids on a hike…” Weston fidgets, looking out the window. “How was I supposed to know it wasn’t allowed? ...But apparently ‘ _ Don’t go in the woods _ ’ means ‘ _ Stay off the nature trail that’s also in the woods… _ ’ and everybody else can figure that out…”

“It’s okay, Stun,” Sarah tells him.

“It’s not, though,” he manages, feeling totally destroyed. “It’s obviously not okay, because fucking Roman was there with fucking Koa so it was like, ‘ _ Let’s all gang up on Weston _ …’ ‘Cause there’s nothing I like better than being outnumbered two to one by dudes…” he laughs a little, bitter, even as the tears still fall.

“That sounds like it felt so scary…” Mister offers gently.

“It was. Yeah,” he manages. “And then...fucking LGD last night talking about everything parents did wrong, and it’s led by a social worker. Just...fuck me…” Weston says, demoralized.

“You mentioned that,” Sarah remembers. “That it felt like the campers were being encouraged to trash-talk their parents...by a social worker. So, that didn’t feel very safe.”

“No. It didn’t…” Weston admits.

“I know you said you just needed me to know...and you didn’t need to talk about anything...but I--”

“I do need to talk,” Weston interjects. “I always need to talk, but there’s never any fucking time, Mister. We’re _ on _ all the damn time except for these two hours. I can’t...like...process all the shit as it comes up, because there’s always someone else who needs my help or another job to do.”

“I can see how that would feel really frustrating. What do you need to talk to me about with LGD?” Sarah asks, super invested in the conversation - in him.

Weston shrugs. “I don’t know. I just...remember...that she sat me down this one time? I was little. In preschool or Kindergarten, and I’d just moved back in with her, because there was gonna be social workers checking on us. And she, like, sat down and made this list? About all the good things I was allowed to tell the social worker about. I don’t know why… It’s not like I could read it. But she’s like,  _ ‘You can only talk about good things or else you’ll get taken away.’ _

Sarah blows out a breath. “So, you learned to talk about surface stuff to keep yourself safe.”

“And here...there’s no time to go deep...like, ever. So it just constantly feels like...even if there’s shit wrong... Nobody’s gonna notice. No one will give a damn.” Weston shrugs. “I know...it must make sense on some trauma level. I know I must be triggered, it’s just… I don’t give a fuck about why. I just want someone to listen to me.”

“I’m right here. I’m listening. You feel like because there’s no time to go deep, and kids are encouraged to be honest about what’s going on at home, by someone who’s in training to be a social worker - that all feels very dangerous,” Mister reviews slowly.

“Yeah,” Weston confirms, finally able to draw a deep breath.

“Yeah,” Mister echoes gently. “And that makes so much sense. However you feel is okay. We can always talk to Roman, and take time like this if we need to.”

“No offense, but the last fucking thing I wanna do is talk to Roman…” Weston comments darkly.

“That really scared you, huh?” Sarah murmurs, sympathetic.

Because it’s her, he nods. “It’s like…  _ ‘Great. Two dudes with more power than me.’” _

“Did Koa explain why he was there?” Sarah wonders.

“Maybe?” Weston admits. “I honestly don’t remember.”

“Okay. Do you want me to tell you? Because it wasn’t to gang up on you…” Sarah ventures gently.

“It wasn’t?” Weston asks.

“No. When an assistant--”

“Me,” Weston fills in.

“Right. You. When you made your honest mistake, it was up to Koa to take responsibility for it. As the core counselor. Koa was also there to be sure that Roman was being fair to you. Kind of like I used to do at school, remember?”

“But he didn’t say anything…” Weston recalls.

“Well, I can see why that would have been confusing then,” Sarah nods.

Weston breathes. “I just...feel like...no matter what I try to do I just end up screwing up, and I get that it’s safe to do...but it feels like no one cares. We’re here to do a damn job, right?”

“That’s right,” Sarah nods.

“So… That comes first. And it should, right? These are kids. We should be able to fucking maintain in order to make sure they have a week where they don’t feel like fucking burdens.”

“But, Stun… We’re not robots. We’re human beings. We’re going to have feelings and reactions to things, and that’s okay.” Sarah explains.

“Do you?” Weston asks, a little skeptical. “You always seem like you’re in your element here. Like this place was made for you.”

“Well, it was,” Mister laughs a little. “But last night, after LGD, for example. I was supposed to be listening to my campers share about their parents...and I couldn’t stop thinking about mine. And your first Christmas there. How awful it was....”

“We were both depressed after that,” Weston remembers. “And you said we never had to go back, and we never did.”

“Right,” Sarah confirms softly. “I’m not perfect. This job is nonstop. It’s why I can only do it for a week...and then I’ll probably need to rest for four,” she jokes.

“I know,” he nods.

“Do you know  _ you’re _ not a burden?” Sarah asks Weston seriously.

“Can I have a hug with that affirmation?” he wonders, smiling a little through his tears.

“You bet,” she says and holds him tight. “I love you. So, so much. You’re my Stun. Always.”

“You’re not a burden either,” he manages. “Just in case - you know - Grandma and Grandpa got in your head…” Weston comments softly.

“I appreciate that but it’s not your job to take care of me, okay? It’s mine to take care of you.”

“You and me,” he says, looking at her from arm’s length.

“You and me,” she confirms.

“Right on,” he nods, with a little smile.


	29. Repair

They’re quiet for a long time after the hug. Weston doesn’t mind it. It’s so loud at camp that he welcomes the silence of the car.

But finally, Mister speaks.

“I’m just thinking about what you said about hearing Brighton talk to the campers last night and how you felt about that,” she shares.

“And?” he asks. He has a feeling there’s more.

“Well, I wonder if it’s okay for me to ask you a question about that?” Sarah says, like she’s still thinking.

“Yeah. That’d be okay,” he nods.

“Okay. My question is… Do you think it might feel safer if you spoke to Brighton directly about why they led LGD the way they did?” 

Weston is stumped. He just sits there, silent. Like, he’s never thought about this before. Eventually, he can talk: “How? And why? And...whatever just...questions…” Weston manages.

“Okay. So...first. How? I would probably call Brighton. If they said yes, we’d sit down together somewhere. Maybe the staff lounge? And talk this out. You could ask them whatever questions you had. I’d be there for support.”

“You and me?” he asks, a little scared.

“Yes. You wouldn’t have to talk to them by yourself.” 

“Oh,” he says.

“And you also asked why…” Sarah remembers.

“I did,” Weston nods. “The only reason I ever talked to social workers was because I had to. And it was all, like, loaded and shit.”

“Well first, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. And I understand that this feels loaded. This wouldn’t be like when you were a kid, Stun. You could be honest with them.” Sarah reassures.

“But like...why?” he presses, still beyond confused.

“Why...is it okay to be honest? Why did I suggest this?” Sarah wonders, and he can see the pieces of what he’s saying click together for her, like a puzzle. 

He nods. “Yeah. Both.”

“It’s okay to be honest because it’s you and me. And the bats,” she smiles. “And I suggested it because I thought it might help you feel safer. But only you know that. And if you don’t think it will? Then, I don’t want you to go through with it.”

“No...I think...I want to…” he ventures. “I mean...if you’d stay?”

“I would stay,” Sarah promises seriously. “I’ll always stay, if you’re comfortable with that. Are you really okay with this? You don’t have to say yes just because I suggested it.”

“No, I am. It’s just… You’re always saying to, like, come to you if I need you. Let you know what I need. But sometimes… Like now… I don’t know what the fuck I need, you know? So I need you to know. Or to help me figure that out.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Sarah nods, squeezing his hand. “And I really appreciate the feedback.”

“Okay. You can call them, I guess…” Weston ventures. And then, as Sarah takes out her phone, he asks, “This is different?”

“This is different. It’s different because we’re all adults. We’re coworkers. And most of all? It’s different because I’m protecting you.” Sarah tells him firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Stun. And if you feel uncomfortable, I want you to know that I’ll notice. And we’ll leave.”

“Yeah. Okay,” he says, nodding for her to make the call.

She does.

Weston swallows. 

\--

The staff lounge isn’t somewhere Weston has ever been. He was expecting something rundown. Old. Hand-me-down chairs. Castoffs no one wanted. But it’s an actual room, with good furniture and a fridge and tons of sensory crap - some he even recognizes from therapy with Mister.

“Make yourself comfortable. There’s food in the cupboards,” Sarah tells him.

“Dude. Count Chocula cereal?” Weston asks, brightening. “Oh, no way. Look. It has frickin’ bats inside.” Not actual bats, but bat marshmallows are close enough.

“Nice,” Sarah approves.

Weston takes the box and gets comfortable on one of the couches. Sarah sits next to him.

Right on cue, Brighton’s there, smiling at them.

They’re a little older than Weston. But to be honest, every single member of Sunshine staff is - even Pablo is 22. They pull up a chair across from Weston and Sarah.

“Hey. Sarah mentioned you wanted to talk to me?” Brighton asks easily.

But now he’s clammed up. The cereal turns to glue in his mouth. He can barely swallow it. And he feels vaguely guilty for eating the bats… Weston glances at Sarah for help.

“We did,” Sarah answers easily. She turns to him and lowers her voice, “Do you want me to tell them any basics here?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Weston has a certain context for social workers. Do you want to share what social workers meant to you?” she asks softly.

“They removed me,” he comments, looking at the floor.

“And after that, you got a certain message from your mom about them, right?” Sarah prompts gently.

“Yeah, she said I was only allowed to talk to you guys about school, toys and like...TV and shit. Only good things. If I talked about any of the real shit going on, I’d get taken away and I wouldn’t have anything.”

“So, hearing you encourage the campers to be honest about mistakes their parents may have made…” Sarah leads off.

“It fucked me up,” Weston finishes, finally looking at Brighton. “I wanted to tell them all to shut up. You know? Stop talking. Because I know what social workers do...and I didn’t… I don’t know.”

“Maybe you didn’t want me doing what was done to you,” Brighton fills in, knowing. 

“Yeah… Yeah, maybe,” Weston admits softly.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Brighton says, surprising him. “That me encouraging the campers to be honest was triggering for you.”

“It does?” Weston says. 

“It really does,” Brighton says, and they look...almost sympathetic.

“Why are you like this?” Weston asks. “I mean...like… Why did you tell them to trash-talk their parents then? If you weren’t gonna take them away?”

“I led Large Group the way I did last night because it’s important to me that kids have a safe place to talk about hard stuff that happens,” Brighton begins.

“...Here?” Weston asks after a pause. “You mean, like, camp?”

“Right. I mean camp,” Brighton says.

“Okay, but what happens at the end of the week? When parents are supposed to come? Will they? Or will all your cronies show up instead?” Weston asks. He’s skeptical. Doesn’t trust them.

“It makes so much sense that you’re worried about that,” Brighton tells Weston, surprising him again. “You have no reason to trust me. And I understand that you have a long history with social workers acting differently. All I have is my word. I’m not going to take anyone away from their parents. That’s not going to be my role as a social worker, and that’s not why I’m here.”

Weston crosses his arms. “Yeah, right. If that’s not your role, then what is it? What the fuck else do social workers even do?”

“Being a social worker means I’m trained in being a good listener and helping people feel heard. That was my goal with LGD,” Brighton explains.

“Like a counselor?” Weston asks. He glances at Sarah. “We’ve got one of those. We go all the damn time. And she’s never…” Weston shakes his head.

“A little bit like a counselor, yeah,” Brighton smiles. Then, they soften. “I don’t want to use my training to hurt people. But I know other social workers do that, so it makes sense that you were worried. Everybody who came here at the beginning of the week? They’ll go home.”

“So...no social worker brigade coming to clear out the camp then?” Weston double checks.

“No,” Brighton confirms.

That’s it. Just no.

“You just wanted them to be able to talk about their feelings and shit, like a counselor?” Weston checks. 

“Right,” Brighton nods. “And listen, I don’t know if it’s exactly the right moment for this, but I want to be sure you hear it. I am sorry. I’m sorry social workers in the past have hurt and scared you...and I’m sorry you were given the message that we were dangerous.”

Weston’s back to studying the floor.

“You know how we’ve been talking about cognitive distortions?” Sarah asks softly. “How it makes sense you believed that a lot of people were against you?”

Weston nods.

“But what did we realize after a while?” Sarah asks, curious. “About people, in general? People are mostly…?”

“People are mostly good?” Weston fills in. “They wanna help?”

Sarah nods.

Weston chews on this for a few minutes. With more cereal, because he’s hungry again (and if the frickin’ bats are marshmallows, that probably means they want to be eaten…)

“So...maybe you’re one of the good ones?” Weston ventures, with a look at Brighton.

“I’m here to listen. I respect what you have to say and your experience. And yes, I’m trying to be one of the good ones,” they finish.

“Shit, we’re almost out of time,” Weston says, glancing at his phone.

“Thanks for coming,” Sarah tells Brighton.

“Anytime,” Brighton says. “I understand if you need me to keep my distance. I just...wanted you to know I recognize the harm done to you. And it matters to me to try and make that right.”

“I…” Weston begins. “I know what it’s like to - no matter what - have no one believe you. Or trust you. So I just… I want you to know I’m trying. And it’s not personal.”

“Thank you. That means a lot,” Brighton says.

Then, they’re out the door, and Weston and Sarah are alone again.

\--

“Listen, we don’t actually have to head for the dining hall until we hear the bell. Do you feel any better having talked to Brighton?” Sarah asks.

Weston shrugs. “Why can’t they just be called counselors? And listen and do all the shit Brighton said they do? Why do they have to do the rest?”

“I know,” Sarah answers, sympathetic. “That’s a really confusing part of all this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Weston answers.

After a pause, Sarah says, “I want you to know that I heard you when you let me know you need me to take more of the lead here. And help you figure things out. You’ve proven that, and you’ve told me as much. So… You need more opportunities to check in.” 

He scoots closer to her now that they’re alone, leaning against her arm. “Maybe…” he comments softly.

“If we meet up here, fifteen minutes before wakeup in the morning, and fifteen minutes after lights out in the evening… Would that work?” Sarah asks. “For me to check in with you?”

“You would do that?” Weston asks, touched.

“You’re my Stun, of course I’d do that. I’d do anything for you,” Mister says. “I want you to have everything you need: connection, love, safety, attention.”

“Count Chocula…” he offers, with a grin.

“We  _ will _ be in here,” she says with a smile of her own. “In the same room with it.”

“So...breakfast...late night snack…” Weston jokes, standing up to put the box away.

Sarah throws her head back and laughs. It’s the best sound. He remembers when it used to startle him. He’s glad it doesn’t anymore.

“Thank you. For taking me seriously.” he tells her.

“I love you. And I’m proud of all the hard work you did in that conversation with Brighton. Listening and asking questions. Trying to believe things could be different…”

“That’s fucking hard,” he agrees.

“It is fucking hard,” she echoes.

She takes his hand.

They leave together.


	30. Being

Francesca can hardly believe it when their dinner is outside. There’s a big fire, and each cabin makes their own pizza to cook on it. 

There is still the option of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and broccoli if anybody wants it. Fran can hear a bunch of campers saying, “Why would anybody want meatloaf, not pizza!” It makes her think of Jesus. And that makes her kind of sad.

“Hey… What’s up?” Brighton asks. “You’re doing a great job with the cheese.”

“I know…” Fran sighs. “It’s just… My brother...he’s not exactly a fan of pizza.”

“Is your brother here?” Brighton asks, looking around. “We can make sure he has meatloaf instead.”

“No… I just mean, some people are joking around that nobody would want broccoli instead of pizza...and  _ he _ would. And I feel bad, because needing to eat different things is just how life is sometimes. For accommodations. And also, I miss him,” Fran admits.

“Well, you’re absolutely right that sometimes people do need to be accommodated about what they eat, and I think it shows you’re a really kind sister, to be thinking about him, even now.”

“I always think about him. And my sister. And the other friends of mine. We all hang out together a lot,” Fran shares, sprinkling more cheese on their pizza until Taylor says it’s Lexie’s turn to add pepperoni now.

Brighton stays right next to Fran as she brushes off her hands. “Yeah? Are any of them coming for Family Night tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I asked my sister to write and tell me, but I haven’t heard back yet…” Fran admits. Then she drops her voice. “I do know my brother is going to be the speaker at LGD tomorrow night, though. I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be a secret or not.”

“I’m glad you’ll get to see him,” Brighton says. Then, they stand up, and say in a loud, happy voice: “If anybody would rather eat meatloaf tonight, I support you. Because everybody here has different tastes and different needs. So, don’t be shy. You’re just as included. We want you here just as much as we want the pizza-lovers.”

Francesca beams. Jesus would really like hearing that. And it makes Fran feel a lot better.

\--

The pizza is perfectly cheesy, and Fran loves it a lot. She misses Dia right now, but Jonah is here, making them all laugh with stories of how he and his mom tried to make a pizza - and all the ways it went so wrong.

By the time it’s time for LGD (at a new time, so they could have enough time to bake their pizzas,) Fran has lost sight of Taylor.

Oh no. Where could she be?

“Where’s Taylor?” Fran asks Sarah, catching up to her.

“She’s leading LGD tonight, so she went down a little early to get ready. You’ll see her there,” Sarah says. It sounds like Fran should be reassured by the words, but she really isn’t. 

She loves sitting by Taylor during LGD. If she’s leading, Fran can’t sit next to her without drawing all the attention to herself.

“Hey. I’ll sit with you, Fran…” Jesse offers, quiet. “I know you always sit with Taylor,” he whispers. “When she’s done, I’ll move, so she can sit next to you. Or… We could save her a spot on the other side of you…”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” she brightens, feeling a little better.

\--

Fran feels even better when she goes inside of The Living Room and finds Taylor sitting in a small circle of spaces and chairs. The chairs are yellow. For Sunshine cabins. Fran makes a beeline for one of the seats beside Taylor. Jesse sits on Fran’s other side.

“So, tonight, we’re going to discuss something called mental health. Who knows what  _ health _ means?” Taylor quizzes.

“Like...if you’re feeling well?” Lexie offers.

“Right, and who knows what the word _ mental  _ refers to? What part of our body?” Taylor wonders.

Fran taps her own head.

“Right. Fran’s on the right track. It refers to your brain,” Taylor gives Fran a high five, and Fran feels so good.

“So, tonight we’re going to talk about three things that might be making our brains feel not so good,” Taylor says. “Some of you might feel funny talking about this, and that’s okay. If you find yourself getting angry or sad during this discussion, that makes sense. If you need to step out, the only rule is, you must leave with an adult. What’s the rule, can we say it or remember it together?”

“If we have to leave, leave with an adult,” Fran choruses. She remembers this one from home, back before she knew it wasn’t okay to just give adults breaks when she felt like she was being too much.

“We’re going to start with a song, to ease us into this,” Taylor decides. And then, with no warning, she sings: “Campers simply repeat after the leader, who sings:  _ “ _ A-Boom-chicka-boom! I said a-boom-chicka-boom! _ ” _

Fran gets it when she notices Jonah, Sarah, Brighton and some of the boy counselors echoing her. She joins in on the echo.

“I said a-boom-chicka-rocka-chicka-rocka-chicka-boom!” Taylor sings.

They do the echo until Taylor goes “Oh yeah!” and “Uh-huh!” Fran echoes every time. Then, they do the song astronaut style (Zoom-chicka-zoom) and sweeping style (Broom-chicka-broom), and then they’re finally done.

“Now, one of the mental health topics I want to talk to you guys about is called anxiety. Anxiety is...it’s like a lot of worries that come on suddenly. Usually, it’s about something coming up in the future. Some people have anxiety about school…”

“Or going to the doctor,” Jonah volunteers.

“Right. What’s something else someone might have anxiety about?” Taylor asks.

Fran raises her hand, even though it’s not required.

“Um...saying the wrong thing?” she asks.

“Right, some people have what’s called social anxiety, which is anxiety in social situations, or with other people. That’s a good one, Fran. Does anyone want to talk about their experiences with anxiety?”

No one speaks up right away.

“Okay...well...I have a lot of anxiety when I have to say no to someone,” Taylor shares. “I used to have a lot of anxiety around sleeping.”

“Because you had bad dreams?” Nico asks.

“Sometimes, I did, yeah,” Taylor confirms.

“I get anxiety sometimes asking for help,” Sarah shares.

“Or going somewhere new,” Weston nods.

“So...it’s a real thing?” Lexie asks, sounding confused. “My mom says it’s all in my head…when I get the thing you’re talking about.”

“Well, she’s not wrong, in that your worry lives in your brain,” Taylor says, “But trying to make you think your worries aren’t real? That’s not cool.”

“Yeah, Dad says to just look on the positive side of life…” Jesse shares softly. “But it doesn’t help.”

“That’s called toxic positivity,” Koa shares. “And it’s not helpful.”

When it’s clear no one else is going to share they take another song break. This time they sing a song called  _ The Bear Went Over the Mountain  _ and next, Taylor’s talking about depression.

Fran’s heard about it, but she doesn’t know how to really explain it...until Taylor shares it.

“Depression is like...a strong feeling of sadness that stays with you, no matter what. It makes you lose interest in what you love.” Taylor explains. “Sometimes depression is situational, which means it happens when you’re in a certain situation but gets better when you leave the situation.”

Fran stops and thinks about this. She thinks so much that she loses track of what everyone is even saying. There’s another song, and Fran hears some words about trauma, but she can’t focus on them.

She feels a tap on her shoulder. “Hey,” Taylor’s saying quietly. “Need to go talk in private?”

Fran nods, and Taylor just casually takes Fran’s hand and walks with her outside to where they can sit on a bench. It’s getting dark, sort of, but still there’s enough light to see.

Taylor squats down in front of Francesca. “Did I say something that struck a nerve?” 

Fran shrugs. “I already know about trauma. And anxiety kinda seems like NBD, no offense. Like...it seems smallish.”

“Okay, so maybe you weren’t concerned about anxiety or trauma, because you were familiar with them already?” Taylor waits. “But maybe depression…?”

“I think I have that. Situation-depression,” Fran confides. She hesitates and then keeps going. “I used to think it was just how I feel...like usual..but it’s exactly like you said. When I’m home with Moms, it’s like nothing really matters that much...and I can’t even have any interests anyways. When I go other places...like with my brother or sister or with my friends, I feel better. More like myself.”

“I see,” Taylor nods. “Can you talk to me about not being able to have any interests?”

“Just...I can, but they make fun of them,” Fran shrugs. “So I try not to have any.”

“It makes sense that you don’t feel like yourself at home. It makes sense that you might have situational depression,” she says, like she cares so much. “It doesn’t make you bad. And it doesn’t make you weird. It’s a really valid response to being stuck in a crappy situation.”

Taylor has tears in her eyes. Tears for Fran, maybe. And Fran leans forward and opens up her arms for a hug, but doesn’t touch her until Taylor nods.

When the hug is happening, Fran is positive Taylor really is crying and that makes Fran cry. “I just feel like every single thing about me is one-hundred percent wrong.” 

“When parents treat us badly. Even for just a little while? We can feel a lot of shame about who we are,” Taylor says, easing back and looking at Francesca. “But you are…” Taylor smiles, through her tears. “Francesca, they don’t know how lucky they are.”

Fran wipes her eyes. She actually kind of believes her.

“I wish I could live here,” Fran manages, her voice thick. 

“You have no idea how much I wish that, too,” Taylor says, smoothing Fran’s hair back. She hugs Fran again. “It will get better. I know how bad it can get. Trust me. Just hang on. Know, you’ve got me. You’ve got all of us at Camp Bravery, and we think you are pretty great.”

“Thank you,” Fran manages, still hugging Taylor. 

She wants to say more - so much more - but the lump in her throat won’t let her.


	31. Gently

When it’s time for canteen, Francesca doesn’t even really want to hang out with any of her other friends at all. She just wants to stay with Taylor.

Fran pulls a Z-bar out of her dino bag. She hasn’t needed one of these since she got to camp.

“Here,” she says, offering Taylor one. “These help. I call them Dementor bars because in Harry Potter, chocolate helps after the Dementors come and suck your soul out.” Fran pauses, thinking. “Depression seems kinda like that.”

“Thank you,” Taylor says, accepting the brownie bar and opening it to take a bite. It makes Fran feel so good that she’s actually going to eat it. She takes a big bite. “Mmm…” she says. “And that analogy? Depression as Dementors? That’s on point.”

Fran sits close to Taylor all of canteen time. Even when Jonah tries to check in with her, or Nico wants to play tag, Fran shakes her head no.

“You can play if you want to,” Taylor encourages. “I’ll guard your bag.”

“No, it’s just… I feel safe here. Next to you,” Fran admits shyly. “And if I get up and go play, maybe that feeling goes away…”

“Well, if you’d rather stay next to me, I’d love to have you,” Taylor says. “Can I put my arm around you?”

“Yes!” Fran says way too loud and embarrassing, but Taylor doesn’t even laugh, she just does it.

They don’t even talk. They just sit together and watch everybody else, and it’s normal and fine.

Fran leans against Taylor’s arm. She never wants this moment to end.

\--

When it’s time to go back to the cabins for SGD and Fran changes for bed, she finds Taylor again as fast as possible. “I don’t...really want to talk about this stuff in front of everybody else. Do you think we could just talk? You know, in private?” Fran asks.

“I think that would work, yeah,” Taylor says. She stops by to talk to Sarah first, and then she walks back to the bunk section with Fran. “Where would you feel comfortable?”

“You could sit on my bed with me,” Fran invites, patting a space next to her.

Taylor comes and sits. “You still thinking about situational depression?”

Fran shrugs. “It’s weird to be able to call it something. I feel like if I called it something at home, Moms would get upset with me.”

“Yeah?” Taylor asks. “Do they get upset if you talk about your feelings?”

“Kinda,” Fran admits. “And we don’t really ever talk about, like...ourselves, you know?”

“Yourselves?” Taylor asks.

“Like...we don’t ever say CP or any other disability name in our house unless it’s for a bad reason. Unless it’s Mama saying I need to educate people, or like, them saying CP is not an excuse for being bad at something.”

“You’re not allowed to talk about disability?” Taylor asks, concerned. “I thought your parents came to the workshop.”

“They did...and it’s sorta better...but they still…” Fran trails off.

“Fran? Are you okay?” Taylor asks gently. “Looks like you went somewhere else for a minute.”

“It’s called dis-sociating,” Fran explains. “It’s just what happens when I’m thinking sometimes, or remembering.”

“You were saying your moms still.... Did you want to tell me what they still do?” Taylor asks.

“I don’t know if I should. It makes them look bad,” Fran hesitates.

“If it’s something they’re doing? They’re making themselves look bad, not you,” Taylor says. “You’re allowed to talk about things that happen to you.”

“Well...they love my nephew more than me? He was born in May, and he’s super fat and not a preemie or anything. They were freaked out when they thought he might come early...like me...but when he came for real and he was big and fat, they were so happy and celebrating,” Fran explains.

“That sounds like it brought up a lot of feelings,” Taylor observes. “You said they’re happy and celebrating him. How are they with you?”

“Like they have to talk to me? Like I’m a job. Nobody ever talks about when I was born at all. There aren’t any pictures of me until I’m, like, as old as my nephew is right now. And Moms won’t shut up about how amazing his being born was. It’s like they love him so much...but they’re ashamed of me…” Fran admits.

“Have you gotten to talk to them about it?” Taylor asks.

“They just think I’m jealous because I was the youngest before he was born, and I was just wanting all the attention on me, but I don’t. Brandon - he’s my brother who he and his wife had my nephew - he’s Moms’ favorite kid. He’s so perfect and like...now, he has a perfect baby. It’s like they never wanted to be my moms, but they couldn’t wait to be Talon’s grandmas…”

Taylor just listens and says: “It makes sense that you feel depressed and like they’d prefer him. It sounds like they’re reactions are communicating a lot to you.”

Fran nods.

Before she knows it, SGD is actually over and it’s time for bed.

Fran goes to brush her teeth and Taylor helps her fix her hair so she can sleep on it. Then, the best thing happens when Taylor pulls back Fran’s covers and waits for Fran to get in bed. Then she covers her up, all cozy, and sits on the bed again.

“You know, you can always talk to me,” Taylor says. “And I will always believe you.”

“Okay,” Fran says.

“And even if I have to help another kid, you can always come to me and ask to talk or whatever. I might not be able to right that minute, but I’ll always make time for you.”

“Really?” Fran yawns.

“Really,” Taylor says, and then she starts to sing this song that Fran has never even heard before. It’s slow and gentle like a lullaby: _“She's got a smile that it seems to me… Reminds me of childhood memories… Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky…”_

Fran listens through the whole entire song. And then “Lean on Me” after that. 

Taylor starts “Three Little Birds,” but Fran falls asleep in the middle.

It’s the best time falling asleep Fran has ever had before.


	32. Both

Weston’s pretty sure that the after-bedtime check-in isn’t going to happen. Jonah needs to talk about, like, all the trauma ever in his life...and Weston supports that...but Nico can’t handle it. He keeps covering his ears and saying, “Stop it! That’s too sad!”

“But you saying my life is too sad doesn’t stop it from being my life,” Jonah reasons. “I need to be able to talk about it. This is what this time is for.”

Koa, Sylvan and Pablo are trying to figure out what’s best for each kid right now. It’s obviously bedtime, and Jonah still needs to talk (and Nico can’t listen.)

Just then, there’s a knock on their cabin door.

Nico screams, “Zombies!”

“Nope...it’s just Sarah,” she says from outside their screen door. “Weston? You ready?”

He nods and steps out into the darkness. He’s glad Mister has a flashlight and reflectors on her chair, so he can see where the hell he’s going. 

Weston holds the flashlight in one hand and one of her handlebars in the other, so they don’t lose each other. He’s almost there when he realizes he left without any shoes. Oh well. It’s not like camp is any of the million places he lived - some with seriously intense rules about where to go barefoot and where to wear shoes.

“...If Nico thinking I’m a zombie is any indication of how it’s going in there, maybe it’s good you got a little break…” she says as they reach the staff break room lounge. Whatever the hell it is.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he nods.

Weston goes right for the Count Chocula cereal. “How’s your cabin?” he asks, coming back to the couch. 

“A couple of them aren’t really ready to go deep...I need to remember to include Dia in these conversations, too...but how are you? I know LGD is kind of historically hard.”

“It is,” Weston says. “Actually, hearing the kids talk more in SGD was harder for me. Taylor was really general. And some of the kids in my cabin...they got specific about what caused their various mental health shit…”

“Yeah?” Sarah asks, gentle.

“Yeah...and I get that...like...my kids have the right to their privacy, and I’m not sharing what any kid may have said. It just made me think...like...in foster care...you’re labeled. But it’s not with anxiety, or depression or trauma… We’re labeled hard to place. Or violent. Or runaway. We’re labeled by what we are. What we show people. Not what the hell made us get that way. Not what made us do shit in the first place. We’re blamed.”

“How do you feel about being blamed for not being able to handle what happened to you?” Sarah asks, curious.

“I think it sucks. It feels...kinda like a betrayal...I guess?” Weston thinks, crunching on cereal.

“Interesting,” Sarah muses. She asks if she can put an arm around him, and he nods. “I think that’s the perfect word to describe what you’ve been through.”

“Yeah?” Weston asks.

“Yes. This is a system that, in many ways, claims it exists to protect kids. But by trapping them in situations where they can’t get help to deal with what’s happening to them until or unless they’re adopted and then blaming them? That  _ is _ a betrayal. And it isn’t what protection is.”

“Sometimes, I get depressed at your house…” Weston admits.

“You do?” Sarah asks. “Do you want to share more? Like, when you notice it?”

“Like...when we had to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s for Christmas. In the summers. And like, sometimes, for no reason, I just get fucking sad. Because nobody fucking wanted me… Not my real mom… Not the Hoffmans...or the Starrs or the Jenkinses. That’s a lot of people. And it doesn’t even count all the other foster placements.”

“It makes sense that you feel sad thinking about that. That’s not no reason, Stun. That’s a totally valid reason. It makes me sad, too. Because you deserved to have love and consistency and safety your whole life...not just these past six years.” Sarah says.

“Fifteen minutes isn’t long enough to check in,” Weston points out. “I mean...it’s better than nothing? But it reminds me of all those counseling sessions where I just barely got comfortable by the end...and then it was the end, and we had to do the same thing the next time.”

“It takes you a lot of time to let your guard down, yeah. And maybe you have more than fifteen minutes worth of stuff to share with me. That would make sense. We can talk first thing tomorrow, but I want you to remember two things for me. Can you do that?” Mister wonders.

“Debatable,” Weston says honestly.

“I’m loving your honesty,” Sarah tells him, with a real smile on her face. “The first thing is, I want you to remember is that it’s you and me. Even here. Even now.”

“You and me,” Weston nods. “Got it. That one’s easy.”

“And the second is I  _ do _ want you. Your feelings make sense. I understand that you’re hurting and sad, and we can always talk about that. Or maybe there are other people you’d rather talk about it with. That’s okay, too.” Sarah tells him.

“This is getting long,” he warns. “Definitely not gonna remember the second thing…”

“The second thing is...I do want you. Very much.” Sarah says. “And I know that doesn’t take away your sadness…”

“But maybe it’s not supposed to?” Weston asks. “Maybe that can be true... _ and _ I can be sad?”

“I think that’s a super wise insight. Yes. Both can be true,” Sarah confirms. “I can walk you back. Come on.” She gets back in her chair and extends a hand to him.

“I guess I’ll leave the bats here…” Weston says sadly.

“But we’ll always have  _ these _ bats,” Sarah says, moving her hair aside.

“Your bat jokes are so bad...but I love them…” Weston grins through his sadness.

He takes her hand, and they step out into the dark.


	33. Prepare

Weston groans as his alarm vibrates at 7:55 Wednesday morning. Then, he remembers he’s checking in with Mister in five minutes, and he’s awake and throwing on clothes. He eases out the door the same time Sarah does, and just like last night, they walk together to the lounge.

The second they’re inside, Weston collapses on the couch. “I need coffee…” he moans comically.

And he is so not expecting it when a Keurig sputters to life in the same damn room as him. The noise startles him. But Mister’s attention, as always, makes him feel seen.

She hands him a cup and he blows on it for half a second before he gives up and sips. “Shit, that’s hot. And sweet. What’s in this?”

“I think it’s supposed to taste like graham crackers or something?” Mister wrinkles her brow. “If it’s awful, I’ll drink it. You can have this cinnamon dolce, or another flavor if you’d rather.”

“No, this is good,” he nods.

“How’d you sleep?” she asks, joining him on the couch with her own coffee once he says it’s cool.

“Like a rock. I don’t know why working here means I need to sleep like a fucking newborn, but apparently it does…” Weston complains after taking another sip of his coffee. It tastes amazing.

“This is a tiring job,” Sarah allows. “I’m glad you’re sleeping okay.”

“Why does Mr. Santanos have the fanciest fucking coffee ever?” Weston asks. “Seriously? Starbucks K-cups? Those can’t come cheap…”

“He runs a camp for disabled kids and a workshop for parents where he’s retrofitted the entire space...I don’t think money’s a worry for him…” Sarah muses. “How are you doing with having spoken to him?”

Weston shrugs. “Wouldn’t bother me if I never saw him again… And I can’t wait to sleep at home, instead of around a billion other dudes…”

“Just a few more days,” Sarah reassures. “Is there anything on your mind? Anything you need to talk through before we start the day?”

“I feel weird,” Weston confesses.

“Weird how?” Sarah asks, concerned.

“Like...I don’t know...it’s how I’ve felt for days. Tense and shit,” Weston tries to explain.

“Do you feel sick?” she wonders.

“No… It’s not like that… It’s something else. Like this feeling like I’m waiting for something…” Weston tries.

“Anticipation?” Sarah asks after a pause.

“No. Not a good feeling. Like...a hold-your-breath feeling…” Weston tries again.

Time is running short, but Mister takes the time to do a twenty with him. They count their breaths slowly. It helps a little.

It at least gets the ground under him by the time the bell rings, and his campers wake up.

\--

“Good morning Sunshine cabin! Today is Wednesday, June 29th, and it’s a beautiful day. I’m your host, Koa Davis, and I’ll be here all week.” Koa’s intoning when Weston walks back in.

“Dudes, come on. Time to wake up,” Weston tells Nico. Then Jesse. Jonah, of course, is already up. He looks like he’s been up for hours, even though Weston knows that everyone was asleep when he left.

“Today’s gonna be a special day, guys,” Pablo says. “It’s dance day. We’re having an Under the Sea dance tonight, so you can dress any way you want for that.”

“Right. You can dress like mermen, or fishermen, or fish…” Sylvan lists.

“I’ve got my fishing hat!” Jonah announces.

“Oh, no…” Nico moans. “I don’t have my hat. I don’t know where it is.”

“Did you bring it?” asks Jesse, concerned. “I can help you look for it.”

“I’ll help you look,” Weston steps in. “What’s it look like?”

“It’s grayish black and it has a green dinosaur roaring,” Nico explains, close to tears.

After a long search, Weston unearths Nico’s hat from the bottom of his bed, under his sheets. Weston also finds a toy truck, a stuffed bulldog and a well-worn copy of  If Animals Kissed Goodnight . Weston leaves the rest where it is, but he does give Nico a heads up about it, in case he’s missing anything else.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” Nico tells Weston, beaming.

“Yeah, your bulldog, your book and your truck are down at the bottom of your bed, too, under your blankets. I can dig them out if you need them.” Weston volunteers.

“No, thanks. That’s their home, I just forgot I left my hat there. I have to show Fran this! It goes with her backpack!” he points to his hat.

It takes time to get everybody out the door. They’re almost late to the dining hall because Jesse’s in the shower and tells them after a long wait that he forgot underwear. But Koa brings him some and drops it off. Pablo, Sylvan, Nico and Jonah have already headed out, but Weston stays behind because he doesn’t trust Koa (or any adult) one on one with a kid.

\--

Breakfast is Belgian waffles with butter, syrup, whipped cream and strawberries. It tastes more like dessert than breakfast, and Weston gets more coffee then, too.

Nico shows off his hat to Fran, even setting it on her head. (Francesca’s obviously got the memo about the Under the Sea dance because she’s wearing a Moana tee shirt that says #BornLeader on it.

She ducks away from Nico and his hat and says, “You keep it.”

\--

Weston’s almost forgotten about Corbin until they arrive at the horseback riding elective. There are Corbin and Dia standing kind of near each other as their moms talk. 

Olivia seems to spot them at the same time Weston does and they walk over to their campers together. 

“Hey, guys,” Weston says. “We missed you.”

Corbin grabs onto Weston’s arm tight, the way Weston’s come to expect. Then, he walks with Prim over to the grass. Not too long after that, Fran and Jesse come and sit down, too. Dia and Olivia are nearby.

While Brighton talks about the horses, Corbin is busy typing. For a while. Finally, he finishes and hits the text to speech button:

“We are the nature-walkers!” he announces. “We are the nature-walkers! We are the nature-walkers!”

“Well...you’re right…” Fran nods. “We are. I think that was the best spontaneous thing we’ve ever done, actually. Or at least,  _ I’ve _ ever done.”

“That was so much fun,” Jesse sighs. “I wish we could do that again.”

“I guess we should have joined the nature elective, huh, guys?” Weston asks, and Jesse and Corbin both nod.

Fran moves closer to Dia so they can talk, and Weston begins to get the idea that the social aspect of these electives is even better than the riding horses aspect.

Weston isn’t trying to listen in, but he hears snatches of Fran and Dia’s conversation while he scopes for Sarah, out of habit. She’s up on a horse with Lexie as he listens:

Fran:  _ Do you know that nobody else in the cabin even knows what it’s like to have their parents treat them crappy? _

Dia:  _ I do. _

Fran:  _ So, maybe I’m not a weirdo? _

Dia:  _ You’re my weirdo. Weirdos together. _

Corbin manages to tolerate the helmet again today, and he rides for a bit before flinging it off. Luckily, their horse is really good and doesn’t freak out at the sudden noise.

Weston’s hoping Arts and Crafts will be calmer. They’re working with clay to make little bowls or handprints or whatever. The idea of handprints makes Weston shudder, but the campers seem to love it.

Especially the idea that they can mold their thing today. Paint it tomorrow and have it back by the end of the week. He helps Corbin make a tiny dog bowl for Prim.

On their way to lunch, Corbin’s still walking with Weston. And it gets Weston thinking about something Sarah said last night. About making sure to involve Dia in the large group discussion topics even though she wasn’t here.

There’s time to spare, so they sit on the grass.

“Hey. Can I ask you a question?” Weston wonders. He holds up his hands for a quick yes or no.

Corbin taps the no hand. Then smiles to himself and taps the yes hand.

“You’re just kidding? You do want me to ask?” Weston wonders.

Corbin taps yes again.

“So...do you know about trauma? Or anxiety? Or depression?” Weston asks, hoping belatedly he isn’t going too fast.

Corbin types briefly, and then answers:

“Yes. All.”

“You know about all of them. Okay. Did you ever… I don’t know… Have you, like, had experience with them?”

“Yes. School,” Corbin answers.

“You did at school,” Weston echoes. “I’m sorry, dude. Do you want to say anymore about that?”

“School trauma. School anxiety. School depression,” Corbin explains.

“That sounds like so much to deal with. What made it hard? Like, too much going on? Too many people?”

“Too many people say I can’t learn. I can’t prove knowing. So they teach me like a baby. Damn wrong.” Corbin elaborates.

“Damn wrong is right,” Weston nods, sympathetic. “Listen...is that…? Is that still happening to you?”

“No. Not trauma school. Homeschool with Mom,” Corbin nods to himself and pets Prim.

“I’m glad. So...it’s almost time for lunch. Are you a veggie lo mein and egg roll dude or a chicken soup dude?”

Corbin holds up a lunch bag from home.

“Ah,” Weston nods. “You’re a dude who always comes prepared. I like that.” (Weston can feel himself relax just in proximity to food. It makes him feel calmer just knowing it’s close by.)

Corbin grins, and they walk into the dining hall. 

It hits Weston that come the end of this week, he’s really going to miss these kids.


	34. Follow-Up

_ Camp Bravery _

_ Camp Director: Roman Santanos _

_ Wednesday _

_ Weston, _

_ I wanted to let you know I’ve seen really good things from you this week. You have a great instinct with campers and can connect with those not everyone is able to. _

_ I also wanted to be certain that you were doing okay after our meeting on Monday. I realized when you asked if you were being fired how frightening a situation that might have been for you. I want all my staff to have a safe work environment and to be able to feel safe coming to other staff or to me if needed. _

_ I am on your side. I know you’re new at this. I don’t expect you to know everything.  _

_ Keep up the great work, _

_ Roman _

\--

Despite Weston’s instincts, he can’t bring himself to stow this letter the way he has the rest. This stationery looks expensive as hell, for one thing. Plus, it’s like, proof, that he’s doing a good job. From his actual boss.

Weston wants to keep it in good condition. 

He can’t wait to show Mister this afternoon.

\--

_ Monday, June 27th, 2022 _

_ Dear Fran, _

_ I’m glad for the kids at camp that get accommodations when they can’t talk. That sounds amazing. _

_ What song are you going to sing Thursday? Will someone record it so I can see? I love hearing you sing, Fran. You are so talented. _

_ Yes, Jesus is coming to lead LGD on Wednesday night. He, Dominique and I will come, too, for Family Night and Pearl and Levi might even video chat if there is service at Camp Bravery. We are so excited to see you. Don’t worry. Moms don’t know - or if they do - they are not planning to come. _

_ I love you and miss you so much, too. I have been sleeping over at Jesus’s every night since you left, so I’m okay. Please don’t worry about me. Just have so much fun at camp. (Probably by the time you get this, you’ll see us tonight…) I can’t wait. _

_ Love, _

_ Mari _

\--

_ Wednesday _

_ Dear Mariana, _

_ OMG I can’t believe all of you are coming. I hope we have service here so that Pearl and Levi can see my camp to. PS IDK why I am writing you back about this since I will see you way before you will see this. _

_ I will see if somebody can take video of me singing, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise of what song it is. One of my counselors named Sarah is a really good singer and she offered to help me get ready for the talent show if I needed it. (How do I know if I need it?) _

_ I really love you and miss you a lot and it makes me feel SO much better that you are living at Jesus’s this whole entire week. Please stay there (if you want to) and be safe. I will have fun easier if I know you’re safe. _

_ I love you, _

_ Fran _

\--

Next, Fran writes to Dia:

_ Dear Dia, _

_ I am so glad you understand about parents being mean and treating me bad sometimes. I thought more kids here would get that, but I felt like the only one for awhile and that is lonely. (But I am glad we can be weirdos together.) _

_ Guess what? My brother is coming to speak tonight at LGD! And my sister and some of my friends are coming to! I am sorry you are not at camp for LGD do you miss it? _

_ We miss you there. _

_ Love,  _

_ Fran _

_ \-- _

TO MY NEW FRIEND FRANCESCA

I WANT TO SAY YES I DO KNOW ABOUT PARENTS BEING MEAN. MINE BABIED ME SO VERY MUCH. IT MADE ME FEEL SMALL. IT IS LONELY TO BE ISOLATED WITH ABUSE. YOU ARE NOT ALONE NOW, MY WEIRDO. WE ARE TOGETHER TAKING ON LIFE.

I AM SO VERY HAPPY YOU ARE SEEING YOUR BROTHER SISTER FRIENDS TONIGHT. I GET TO SEE MY SKY EVERY NIGHT BUT I STILL MISS HER. I MISS THE FELLOWSHIP OF LGD NOT THE NOISE.

LOVE,

DIA

\--

All during swimming, Sarah can’t convince Francesca to get in the pool. Fran sits on the side between Sarah and Jonah, bursting with news that her brother and sister and friends are coming tonight.

“I’m so happy for you!” Sarah beams, giving Fran a hug, which Fran happily reciprocates.

“Is anybody coming from your family, Jonah?” Sarah asks. “Your mom?”

“It’s hard for her to make the drive...and since it’s just me and her...and I’ve come here for years...it’s like,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. She already knows what it looks like. Hey, what’s your brother speaking on? Like, what’s his specialty?” Jonah wonders.

“Am I allowed to say if I know?” Fran asks Sarah.

“Definitely,” Sarah nods.

“His specialty is consent. He and my sister taught me all about it,” Fran shares.

“Cool,” Jonah nods. “Hey what do you wanna do during free time?”

“Read? Or talk… What about you?” Fran asks.

“Oh, and we should check with Dia to see what she wants to do, too.” Jonah remembers.

“You’re right,” Fran answers.

And Sarah’s heart swells. She loves how these kids never forget each other.


	35. Praise

“I have something to show you...but I’m gonna wait until we’re there…” Weston explains. He sends Mister a grin.

“Okay. Mysterious. I like that,” Mister nods, with a smile.

Weston can’t wait to get to their usual spot to drink coffee and eat. He’s practically vibrating with excitement. This break is, like, perfectly timed.

But as Mister drives, Weston starts to doubt. 

What if he’s making too big a deal out of this? What if Mister’s reaction is like...downplayed? What if she tells him Roman sends out those kinds of notes to everybody, so it’s not a big deal after all.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out.

“I’ve gone from excitement to serious doubt,” he updates Sarah.

“Uh-oh,” she says. “You know it’s okay to be excited? It is, Stun. I’m not going to take your feelings away from you.”

“Oh,” he nods.

“I know Ashley’s done that before, right?” Sarah says, referring to Weston’s real mom. 

“She has. Yeah,” Weston confirms, serious.

“We don’t do that here. I won’t do that,” she reassures.

Finally, they arrive at Sarah’s favorite overlook, near camp. It has the best view, and they can just hang out in the car. Weston eats his three tacos, and Sarah drinks her large frappuccino. 

“So, what did you want to tell me?” Sarah asks.

“...You still wanna hear?” Weston wonders.

“Absolutely. If you’re excited, especially,” Sarah nods.

“Well…” Weston reaches into his bag, which he brings with him always and takes out the envelope. It’s not crumpled at all. “This came for me.” He hands it to Mister, kind of shyly.

“Mmm,” she says, interested. Sarah sets her coffee down in a cup holder and holds the envelope with both hands. “From Roman?” she raises her eyebrows. “You consent to me reading this?”

“Yeah. You know...like...if you want to…” he hedges. “It’s probably no big deal…” Weston admits, prepared to be let down in a huge way, even though Sarah did just say they don’t take each other’s feelings.

He’s so used to it happening.

Weston’s quiet as Sarah reads. “Roman’s seen really good things from you this week. Stun, that’s awesome. I have, too. You’ve done really well. Even from night one, when you came over looking for Jesse’s bunny…”

She keeps reading. “‘ _ You have a great instinct with campers, and can connect with those not everyone is able to _ …’ That’s for sure. Look at how much Corbin trusts you. I mean, that’s huge that he feels so safe with you.”

“Fran and Jesse and Corbin...all of them want more nature walks with me,” Weston admits. “I have to tell them no, but they wanna be with me, you know?”

“Yes, so Francesca and Jesse feel safe with you, too. It’s a big deal when kids can trust us, isn’t it?” Sarah asks.

Weston scratches his head. “I guess so. It’s never happened to me before...but it feels like a big deal, yeah…” he grins a little. “Keep going.”

“Okay,” Sarah answers. “Oh, I love that Roman makes sure to reassure you here. He saw that you were feeling scared. How do you feel about it?”

“Good, I guess?” Weston nods. “That he gives a shit. But I still don’t wanna go hang out in his office one on one…”

“That’s fair. And I see he says he wants all his staff to have a safe working environment. And to feel safe coming to him or another staff member, if needed.” she comments. “Do you feel like camp is a safe environment?”

“Safe as any, I guess…” he ventures. “Sometimes I feel safer with strangers, so it works in my favor.”

“That would make sense,” Sarah nods. “And I heard you say you wouldn’t want to go hang out in Roman’s office one on one. Would you feel safe coming to any of the other staff?”

“You  _ are _ other staff,” Weston points out, finishing off his nachos and draining his coffee.

“That I am,” she says in a funny voice. “So…” (back to serious) “...do you feel safe coming to me, with questions or concerns?”

“Yes,” he tells her. “Because we can be honest and authentic, even though it’s camp. Wherever we are, those things still apply. Oh, and so does the safety.”

“Right,” Sarah beams. “That review was so spot on,” she gives him a high five. “Look at this, he says he’s on your side...does that help to know?”

Weston nods. “In writing,”

“Right, I know having things in writing is important to you. Good. He knows you’re new at this, and he doesn’t expect you to know everything. Were you able to take that in?” Sarah asks.

“I can take it in better now. From you,” Weston tells her.

“Roman does not expect you to know everything. That means it’s okay to come to me and ask questions if something isn’t clear.” Sarah says.

“Yeah. Finish it,” he urges.

“ _ Keep up the great work _ …” She reads slowly and then looks up at him with the biggest smile. “Stun, he said you’re doing great work!”

Weston shrugs. “Well, he hired me. I  _ should _ be doing great work. These kids deserve great.”

“Well…you’re my Stun...and hearing that you’re doing great work makes me so proud of you.” she beams.

“Really?” he asks, not quite believing that her excitement is totally matching the level of his initially.

“You are doing so well. I see it, too, Stun, okay? Not only as an employee, but I know you as a person. So I know the great work you’ve been doing emotionally, too. Being able to be honest about being triggered, or needing something different…”

“That’s hard shit,” he nods.

“It is very hard shit and you’re doing it,” she tells him, still grinning. “Can I hug you?”

“I’d take a hug. Yeah,” he nods.

Weston feels her arms come around him and it takes a few seconds to relax into the embrace. To lean against her. “This is because you’re proud of me?” he checks.

“Hugs are basic needs. Human touch. You don’t earn that,” she says, squeezing him gently. “I am proud of you because you’re my Stun. And I’m hugging you because you’re my Stun.”

He backs out of the hug and takes the paper from her hands. “Did you feel this paper? It’s heavy as hell. And it has his  _ name _ on it even,” Weston exclaims, pointing it out. He sniffs the page. “Dude, it even smells like fancy paper…”

“Ooh, does fancy paper have a smell?” Sarah asks, and he offers it to her. She smells it. “I see what you mean. Kind of like when you go to the bookstore, and there’s that new-book smell?”

“Who goes to the bookstore when you can buy everything online?” Weston asks.

“Anyway, when we get home, I’d love to hang this up on the fridge.” Sarah tells him.

“Is it still mine?” Weston asks, a shadow of something in his eyes.

“Honey, of course it’s still yours. You live in the house. We share the refrigerator. I put my good work reviews up there sometimes, too. And I used to do that with some of your schoolwork.”

“Because it’s not cocky to be proud of a job well done?” he checks.

“Absolutely not,” Sarah shakes her head. “We can be proud. It’s good to be proud.”

“Okay,” he says. 

Weston carefully folds the paper back up and tucks it in its envelope.

He glances at Sarah. 

“This is going to look fucking amazing on the fridge,” he decides, tucking the paper in his bag. “Except I don’t want people to know I thought I was getting fired… Wait. I guess no one really comes over except Nyah,” he says, thinking of his girlfriend. “And Jolene. I wouldn’t mind if they knew.”

“It is going to look fucking amazing on the fridge,” Sarah echoes. “And if you ever wanna take it down, you can take it down.”

“Never,” Weston decides.

“Great. We’ll leave it up ‘til you’re 89,” Sarah laughs.

“And you’re 103,” he smiles, after doing some quick math in his head.

“Perfect,” she decides.

And he knows he’s not...but she loves him anyway.

That’s the whole point.


	36. Worlds

Francesca, Dia and Jonah are just coming back from the library. They go to the dining hall early now, to wait with Dia for her family to pick her up. Only this time, it’s different.

She squints. Sees three familiar figures walking up to the dining hall, too, from a different direction.

“I don’t believe it!” she exclaims, breaking into the biggest smile. It takes all her self control not to tell Jonah and Dia to go faster. “My Avoider family is up there,” Francesca points. “My big sister, big brother and my mentor, who’s just like a sister.”

It feels like it takes forever for them to get to Jesus, Mariana and Dominique. Fran wants to rush right to them, but Dia’s holding onto her, and she’s riding on Jonah’s lap.

“Hi!” she calls. Finally, Fran gets off Jonah’s lap. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem,” Jonah says back.

Fran rushes into their arms just like she’s wanted to do all this time. “I can’t believe you guys are really here! You’re here for spaghetti dinner? Did you plan that?” Fran asks Dominique with a grin, knowing that Dominique’s dad always makes the best spaghetti dinners that they love.

“Hey buddy!” Jesus greets, hugging her so hard he picks her up off the ground. “You grew!”

“Nah-uh,” Fran denies. “It’s only been, like, four days!”

“You so grew,” Mariana protests, opening her arms, too. “Miss you. You look so grown up. Maybe it’s your hair…”

“Do you like it?” Fran asks, self-conscious. She touches her hair that Taylor tied up professionally in a bun this morning. It’s not a style she ever wears at home.

“I think it looks great,” Dominique insists, hugging Fran hard. “It suits you.”

“You know, we were just in the library reading Harry Potter?” Fran asks Dominique.

“You were?” she asks, smiling. “Made some friends of Harry Potter fans, I see…”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Guys, these are my friends. This is Jonah, and that’s Kieran,” she points to the dog. And this is Dia. We made friends because she’s an older sister and I’m a younger sister, she’s protecting me this week, so you guys don’t have to worry.”

Fran watches as Dia extends one finger slowly toward Mari. Mari does the same. They just quietly touch fingers, and it’s like a whole entire conversation without any words at all. 

“Nice to meet you both,” Jesus says.

“What book were you reading?” Dominique asks Jonah.

“Book 6,” Jonah fills in. “It’s getting really intense.”

“Dia, do you like Book 6?” Mariana asks, and Fran holds her hands up so Dia can answer more easily.

She taps Fran’s  _ yes _ hand.

“Yes,” Fran says, doing the interpreting like she’s seen Olivia do for Dia.

“Nice,” Jesus says.

“Oh! There’s Sky!” Fran exclaims. “Dia, I’m so glad you got to meet my Avoider family. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Dia hums.

Then, she and Sky walk away together.

\--

Dinner is louder than Weston’s used to. 

It’s not that he minds the noise. 

He doesn’t.

He minds the families.

This family day thing? It feels weirdly like visitation with Ashley used to feel. Francesca’s super excited. She’s got her older brother and sister (the twins) and another friend, she says is her mentor. He notices her parents are particularly absent.

(And that Fran seems relaxed. Relieved. She doesn’t seem like she even misses them. Weston wonders what the hell they did to her. He knows better than to ever ask.)

Weston eats his spaghetti and chills and talks to Jonah, who doesn’t have family visiting. Weston feels a little bad, knowing at least he has Sarah.

Speaking of Sarah, she catches up with him on the way to LGD. “You okay?” she drops her voice. “...with all the families visiting…”

“It’s fine,” he says.

“Weston, you can be honest. It’s okay if it’s not fine,” Sarah encourages.

“It’s what it is…but yeah...maybe it feels like when I’d have to see Ashley? Play happy family?” he admits.

Sarah looks at him, sympathetic. “That sounds unnerving. Our campers got to invite people they wanted to see...so in that way it’s different. Safe,” Sarah points out.

“I know. Still,” he qualifies. “It feels how it feels.”

“And that’s okay. You can feel whatever you feel. Everything you feel. And I’ll be here. We’re checking in tonight. And if you need me before then, I’m here,” Sarah promises. “Do you want me to sit with you tonight? The LGD talk...it’s on consent...and I’m thinking maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I was close by.”

“I thought we weren’t allowed to bunch. I thought we had to spread out with all the campers.” Weston recalls.

“Right, but Dia and Corbin are home for the night, so I don’t think the other counselors will mind, since there will still be enough of us to be sure they’re taken care of. I’m making sure you’re taking care of.”

“Yeah?” Weston asks.

“Yeah,” Sarah confirms.

“So...yeah...I guess...if you wanted… We could sit near each other or whatever…”

\--

Fran is practically vibrating out of excitement. Her Avoider family and her camp family are together. Usually, when two worlds try to come together, they smash up against each other, like Sarah said one time, but it feels like Jesus, Mari and Dominique all fit in here perfectly.

Mariana sees Rosa, and they start talking right away. Pablo is talking to Jesus, showing him the front of The Living Room. 

That leaves Dominique and Fran. “Dominique, this is my favorite counselor,” Fran says.

“Hey. Fran’s a great kid,” Taylor says.

“I know,” Fran can’t resist saying, before breaking into giggles.

“You are,” Dominique says. “It’s okay to own that. Oh, crap. I promised I’d see if I could get Levi and Pearl here remotely. Do y’all allow that? Can I video call out? So more of Fran’s family can be here. They’re like 2,000 miles away--”

“--So, it’s an adaption,” Fran explains.

“Adaptation, I see. Francesca, are you comfortable with having these people here?” Taylor asks.

“Yes. Levi and Pearl West. They’re on my list of safe people, even. You can check.”

Taylor takes out a piece of paper and her glasses and checks it out, nodding. “I’m gonna speak to Rosa, just to be sure it’s all above-board. I know there’s rules about pictures and video, but I think this will be alright.”

A few seconds later, Taylor sends them a thumbs up, as long as there’s no filming other kids or staff without consent and Dominique video chats Pearl and Levi...and it’s like they’re both right here, too.

“Hi, guys! I can’t believe you’re at my camp!” Fran squeals. “It’s like, the best news ever in life.”

“Hey!” Pearl greets her. She looks and sounds just the same. And just hearing her voice reminds Fran of how much she misses them. Cleo is here, and so are Levi and Panther.

“Hey, Fran. It’s so good to see you. Oh, you’re wearing your Moana shirt today?” Levi asks happily.

“Yup! We’re having an Under the Sea dance tonight, and Moana fits the theme,” Fran explains.

“She sure does,” Pearl nods.

The music starts, and Dominique asks if Pearl and Levi are okay with a view of the ceiling while they all sing.

“Of course,” Pearl says.

Fran can hardly wait through all the songs until it’s Jesus’s turn to start talking.

\--

“What’s up, Camp Bravery? My name is Jesus, and if you know Francesca…”

Fran raises her hand, like she’s a student with all the answers.

“...Then, that means you know my little sis…” he says proudly. “Anyway, I gotta say your camp is pretty awesome. I’m here to talk to you tonight about something called consent. Now, what does consent mean? Does anybody know?”

Weston watches as Giselle raises her hand and speaks at the same time: “It means yes! Enthusiastically!” Beside her, Weston can see a woman with a long brown braid, and two younger kids who pat Giselle on the back.

“Giselle, you rock. That is totally right. Consent means yes. But it’s not like... _ kinda _ . It’s not wishy-washy. And it’s not a yes where you feel pressured to say it, to keep friends or family or anyone happy. It’s a yes like, if I asked you guys, _ “Do you want your favorite dessert?” _

A loud chorus of “yes!” erupts from around Weston.

Beside him, Sarah raises her eyebrows. Weston nods a little. He’s okay.

“Now… This part is where it gets kinda serious. Your bodies are yours. They’re not for anybody else to touch unless you say yes, because you want that hug, or that touch the way you want your favorite dessert.”

“What if we don’t?” Nico asks. “Because our bodies are too full, like sometimes we don’t really want dessert if we ate too much.”

“That’s a great question. If you don’t want that hug, or whatever kind of touch they’re asking about, you can say no. Shake your head. Move away. Whatever you can do to put space between yourself and them. That’s your right as humans.”

“But they do it anyways...sometimes,” Francesca admits.

“You’re right, Fran. Sometimes people don’t listen when you say no. Sometimes they cross our boundaries...and that’s on them. Adults who cross your boundaries and break body safety rules? That’s never the kid’s fault, okay? The adult knows better…”

Weston swallows. 

He wonders if the same is true for teenagers. There’s a time that even Sarah doesn’t know about yet. Right before he lived with her. He’d run, and had no money. He was hungry and had nothing to trade. Nothing to sell...except…

He’d only done it a couple times. And he’d walked into it knowing. The way you just know shit.

Yeah, he’d been young. But he knew what he was doing.

Would Sarah blame him if she knew?

What would Jesus say if he knew?

His skin crawls. His mind drifts. Weston’s barely present for the rest of the discussion.

\--

Francesca isn’t ready for Mari, Dominique, Levi, Pearl and Jesus to go. Plus, everybody has a million questions for Jesus.

She hangs onto Mariana. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, but we have to, before it gets dark,” Mariana tells her sadly. She whispers in her ear. “What are you gonna sing?”

“It’s a secret,” Fran says. “But a safe secret,” she reassures Jesus. “Because you’ll know eventually.”

“So, a surprise,” Pearl says.

“Basically.” Fran nods. “Anyways, I love you guys and I don’t want you to go, but there’s a dance, and I have to get ready…”

“Well, okay then,” Dominique grins. “You go get ready. Have tons of fun. We love you.”

“Bye!” Fran says, making her way back to her cabin, feeling safe and okay with this version of her chosen family, just like she does with The Avoiders.


	37. Dance

In order to get ready for the Under the Sea dance, Francesca checks her clothes. She asks Taylor to do her hair again. Then, she goes to Brighton:

“Do you think I could maybe use some of your makeup?” she asks shyly.

“For the dance? I think so,” Brighton says with a smile. 

Then, not only does Brighton lend Fran some makeup, they help her put it on, even. Lipstick that looks like it’s exactly the color that was made for Fran.

“I sneaked my own foundation here from home,” Fran explains. So, I already covered up my zits.”

“Oh. Well, zits happen to everybody, so you’re not alone there,” Brighton says. “Do you want eye makeup?”

Fran nods, and Brighton gets to work. By the time they’re done, the dance is about to start.

“Please, somebody take my picture before all this amazingness wears off my face!” Fran begs. Then, the best thing happens, because Taylor comes behind Fran and takes a picture of both of them.

“Will you be at the dance?” Fran asks.

“With bells on,” Taylor says.

“What?” Fran asks.

“It means yes, she’ll be there,” Olivia clarifies. “Ready to party.”

“Are all of you guys coming?” Fran asks.

“You bet,” Sarah says.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Brighton tells her.

“Will you dance with me?” Giselle asks Fran. “I’m afraid no one will dance with me…”

“Sure,” Fran says, but all that does is make her think of Bella. Maybe Fran should have invited her to Family Night.

But the truth was, she hadn’t even thought of it.

It was one thing to invite The Avoiders - they knew about disability because of their lives and everything. Bella was nice and supportive, and she never did or said anything mean...but Francesca wasn’t sure Bella would have gotten what a big deal camp is for her.

Still, she doesn’t really have time to dwell on that.

The dance is happening right now!

Fran makes it outside where the music is playing. So far, she’s heard a song called “I Swear” - Sarah says it’s by a group called All4One. They have really good harmonies, just like she’s learned about in choir class with her teacher, Kari.

Unfortunately, Nico doesn’t understand the lyrics, because he won’t stop talking about how: “This song is wrong!” and “We should never swear!”

Fran’s close enough to overhear Weston tell Nico. “You know what? You’re totally right. Sarah made sure I knew there’s no swearing here when we came.”

“So, I’m right!” Nico says, still upset.

“About that part, yeah. You’re super right. The thing is, sometimes people use words to mean different things. Like, _ swear _ can mean saying bad words, right?” Weston tells him.

“Yes! So wrong!” Nico exclaims.

“But...it can also mean.. _.seriously promise _ . Like, in this song, they’re not talking about saying bad words. They’re saying, “I promise - I seriously promise - to be there for you no matter what happens in life.”

“For me?” Nico wonders, confused.

“Like, their girlfriend or boyfriend, or - you know - somebody they love.” Weston explains.

“Oh,” Nico says.

By now, some song called “Dancing in the Street” is on. Fran makes sure to dance with Giselle a little bit, but it turns out she doesn’t really want to dance, anyways. Because she and Lexie go off and talk. 

That’s actually fine with Fran. 

She finds Taylor, and they dance to “How Far I’ll Go” from  _ Moana _ . Then, “Rolling in the Deep” by Adele and “Despacito” by Vida (Taylor knows every song,) before Fran needs to take a break. Even though she’s dancing holding Taylor’s hands, she still gets tired.

She’s breathing hard as she sits down and Taylor’s beside her. “Dance really takes it out of you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Fran manages.

“I like hanging out with you,” Taylor says, bumping their arms together just a little. “And I really liked meeting your people tonight. Your brother and sister and your mentor. You’ve got great people in your corner.”

“Yeah,” Fran gasps again. She drinks a bunch of Hawaiian Punch for more energy. “I wish my moms were great people in my corner...some people still think they are. They think that no matter what Moms even do. It’s not fair.”

“It sounds unfair. Yeah,” Taylor comments seriously. She waits for a minute and then comments quietly, “The depression...we talked about it the other night?”

Fran nods, watching as Jonah and Sylvan do a goofy dance to some “Macarena” song.

“That makes sense. And I want you to know you can reach out to me anytime. Even after camp,” Taylor says. “I’d love to check in with you, too, but only if you’re cool with that…”

“Yes!” Fran answers, too loud (but it’s okay because everything is loud basically.) She takes out her phone, where she stuck it in the side pocket of her dino bag and hands it to Taylor.

Taylor hands her phone to Fran.

“Put whatever contact details work for you in there. Email, number, and don’t forget your name,” Taylor encourages.

Fran fills in every box there is.

Then, she hands back the phone to Taylor.

The music announcer says there’s one more song. “Under the Sea” from  _ The Little Mermaid _ starts playing.

“You know, this used to be my favorite movie…” Francesca ventures. “Then it changed to  _ Frozen _ ...then it changed to  _ Moana _ . When I loved _ The Little Mermaid, _ it was because...like...everyone around me walked regularly. And I didn’t. And Ariel didn’t. But, there was really nothing wrong with her because she had a tail.”

“I agree,” Taylor says.

“But she thought there was...and sometimes when I’m home...I think there is...something wrong with me…” Fran admits.

“It’s hard when you get those messages from home,” Taylor says quietly. “But just like there’s nothing wrong with Ariel for having a tail, there’s nothing wrong with you for having what you have. Any of the stuff you have. It’s not your fault.”

“Okay,” Fran nods.

\--

Before Fran knows it, the dance is basically over, but it was worth it, because she got Taylor’s contact info. She’s got another safe person - and probably her favorite one yet!

To celebrate the dance, Fran finishes off her puffy Cheetos and some Golden Grahams. She drinks one of her Mountain Dews, too.

“Did you have fun at the dance?” Jonah asks, approaching her.

“I did, did you?” Fran says.

“Yeah, it was great. Your brother’s really cool. I wish he could’ve stayed longer,” Jonah says, kind of longingly.

“Me, too. I wish my sister and Dominique could have stayed longer, too.” Fran says. Then, “Do you feel sad none of your family came?”

“A little… Also, I was kinda hoping you’d ask me to dance…” Jonah admits shyly.

“What?” Fran asks, almost choking on her soda.

“Well, you danced with Giselle and Taylor...and I don’t know...I thought maybe  _ we _ could...you know...as friends.”

Fran’s face gets hot. She chugs more Mountain Dew. “You could’ve asked me…” she mumbles.

“Yeah, but basically everybody I’ve ever asked has said no...except counselors in my cabin…” Jonah admits.

“So? They can say no, Jonah. It’s their right,” Fran says. Seriously, was he even listening during Jesus’s talk at all?

“I know. I just mean...after enough people say no… It’s hard to want to keep asking.”

Taylor’s got her guitar out, and she’s playing an Auli’i Cravalho song, called “Perfect” and Taylor’s serious singing voice is amazing. Fran has kind of thought the only singing voice she’s had is her silly one for camp songs...but no.

Just the sound of it is like all the wonderfulness in the world just washing down on her. It makes her brain relax even more into thinking.

Fran’s been wondering about a lot of stuff. Like, if dancing with Jonah will mean she and Bella don’t have a thing anymore. Like, if dancing with Jonah will mean she likes boys after all...but right now, none of that really matters.

What matters is meeting people where they are in that very minute. And in this very minute? Jonah seems really lonely. Maybe dancing with him doesn’t have to mean anything more than two friends dancing.

“Sure,” Fran says.

“What do you mean?” Jonah asks, confused.

“I’m saying yes. Enthusiastically. I’ll dance with you.” Fran says. “Just don’t run over my toes, please.”

It starts out a regular holding hands dance, with Fran kind of swaying a little. Then he says, “You can sit, if you want,” patting his lap. “I’ll do the moving…”

Careful of his ventilator tubing, Fran climbs onto Jonah’s lap. He holds onto her with one hand and takes them in slow circles with the other.

Slowly, Francesca holds Jonah’s hand that’s holding her. Taylor’s still singing, and it’s perfectly fitting what’s happening right now:

_ “Dancing in the dark _

_ With you between my arms _

_ Barefoot on the grass… _

_ Listening to our favorite song… _

_ And when you said you looked a mess _

_ I whispered underneath my breath _

_ But you heard it: _

_ ‘Darling, you look perfect tonight.’” _

It’s like time stops. Like Francesca and Jonah are in their own world right now. With darkness settling in around them. Voices of kids happily being themselves. Taylor there doing the music like this is a Disney movie, where breaking into song just happens, like, obviously.

Fran feels safe in Jonah’s arms. She knows he keeps his promises. Knows that just like Dia, he’ll go to the ends of the earth to protect her. And Fran will do the same, because that’s how friends do it.

They dance and keep dancing.

No one stops them.

No one teases them.

No one takes video of them.

It’s perfect.

Just like the song says.

\--

When Taylor stops playing guitar, their dance is over. Jonah doesn’t try to kiss her, or expect her to kiss him or anything like that. He just stops his chair and offers her a hand down saying, “My lady,” like he’s a knight or something.

“Thanks,” Fran nods.

“Thank you. For the dance,” Jonah nods.

“Thanks for wanting to. You can be honest with me, you know? If people say no? That’s their boundary, but it doesn’t always mean they don’t like you.” Fran explains.

“I know,” he nods. “It’s just hard to know that sometimes.”

“I know. That’s why I’m reminding you,” Fran tells him, smiling a little.

“Everybody thinks I just know everything. Nobody thinks to remind me of the little things...except you,” Jonah says thoughtfully.

“Yeah, because you’re a human, and it’s human to need reminding.” Fran says, gathering up her snacks.

“Fran? You have a great voice.” Jonah tells her.

He must see her looking so confused, because he adds: “You were singing along with Taylor. Anyway, I can’t wait to hear you at the talent show.”

“Okay,” Fran says. “Bye! See you in the morning!” Fran says, feeling extra giddy.

“See you!” he calls.

Now, Fran is so excited to sing tomorrow night that she can hardly stand it.


	38. Help

Weston sees everyone starting to head back to their cabins, and he falls into step next to Sarah. 

“Can I take my break?” he asks. He doesn’t usually ask Mister, but Weston can’t bring himself to talk to Koa or Sylvan, and they’re the ones who would need to know.

Luckily, Mister takes one look at him, even in the fading light, and knows.

“Hey, Taylor?” 

“What’s up?” she asks, turning from where she is a little up the sidewalk, carrying Fran on her back.

“Weston and I are gonna head to the break room for a bit. Can you, Olivia and Brighton handle small group and bedtime?” Sarah asks.

“Are you kidding? We can totally handle it,” Taylor reassures. “Hey, Weston? You’ve got this. Whatever this is? You got it,” Taylor tells him.

A smile twitches across his face. He knows based on emails the staff exchanged that Taylor knows a good bit about this. That realization has words stuttering out of his mouth.

“Actually you,” he blurts. “Could I talk to you?”

“You wanna talk to both of us?” Mister asks, confused.

“No,” Weston admits, looking at the ground.

“That’s alright,” Sarah reassures Weston. “I want you to talk to whoever you need. Whoever will help.”

“Yeah. She will,” Weston manages. “Is that okay?”

“Sure thing,” Taylor says, setting Fran down on the sidewalk and keeping her steady until she has her balance. “Listen, I still think you’re the coolest, okay? I just need to help Weston, and then I’m coming right back.”

“In time to tuck me in?” Fran asks. “And do a song?”

“Well, Sarah or Brighton may have already started singing, but I’ll definitely come by and say goodnight.”

“Okay,” Fran answers.

“You wanna ride with me?” Mister offers.

“No, that’s okay, I know wheelchairs aren’t toys,” Fran says.

“Oh, hey, Taylor? Stop next door and make sure Koa knows where you’ll be?” Mister calls.

“On it,” Taylor says.

After a quick trip to Weston’s cabin, he and Taylor are off. They don’t talk. Not until they get to the staff lounge and even then, Taylor just goes for one of the cabinets. Weston is pretty sure she’s going for food until she emerges with a giant block of clay and a ton of plastic wrap.

It’s several minutes until Weston ventures: “Sorry to put you on the spot or whatever. Especially if you didn’t want to do this.”

“I did,” Taylor answers. “I just...thought it might be easier to talk if we were doing something else.”

“Oh.” Weston nods. The clay feels odd. Cold and sort of wet. But when he touches it for a while, it feels warm - and that’s worse. 

With Taylor, the silence doesn’t feel loaded. It doesn’t feel like pressure. It feels comfortable. Easy. Like either one of them can talk if they want to.

“I know...even well-meaning talks about consent can kind of...bring stuff up…” Taylor says quietly, almost to herself.

“I know!” Weston jumps in to agree. “I just...I’m feeling fucking blamed. And I know that’s not the point. That he wanted to be sure the kids didn’t blame themselves, but…”

“But trauma’s not logical,” Taylor fills in calmly. Weston glances over long enough to see she’s sculpting a woman’s face with tons of hair. It’s a real art piece.

“He said we could say no or stop, but what if we didn’t?” Weston asks softly. “What if we...knew what we were getting into….but then later things happened...that maybe we didn’t want…? Is it on me, because I was older? Because I said yes first?”

“No. You’re allowed to change your mind,” Taylor says.

“This was geared toward little kids, though. Sarah only knows about when I was super young. But just before I came to live with her...I was thirteen and...maybe it was on me?” Weston worries.

He glances down. His piece of clay is an ugly pile. Weston hasn’t done anything to it.

“Jonah’s fourteen. What would you tell him?” Taylor asks evenly.

“Well, of course Jesus’s talk was  _ for _ him. He’s a camper,” Weston decides. He gets up and washes his hands. He finds the box of Count Chocula and pours himself a bowl.

“So, say if you came here as a camper at thirteen…” Taylor ventures.

“I didn’t,” Weston points out.

“Thirteen is still a child. A child cannot consent to sex, no matter what the circumstances. That’s not your fault. Whatever happened? It’s always on the adult to act responsibly.”

“I needed the money, though…” Weston manages, desperate. “I was starving and so cold.”

Taylor gets up, washes her own hands and brings him a blanket. She’s at the microwave for a while and then comes back with a bowl heaped with noodles and vegetables. It’s hot. She sets it in front of him, with a simple:

“Then that other person could have done this. They could have gotten you a blanket, and some food,” Taylor explains gently.

Weston keeps hold of the box of Count Chocula but tries the noodles. They’re fucking amazing. “Mmm… Why does Roman have such amazing food?”

“That’s not Roman’s. I brought that,” Taylor points out, with a small smile. “Are you done? With the clay?”

“Yeah, art’s not really my thing,” Weston admits.

“You have something, though, right? Even if it’s not art… You have somewhere to channel everything?” Taylor asks.

“I have Sarah,” Weston tells her. He pauses. “Do you think she’s gonna be hurt? I talked to you, and not her...”

“I don’t know her as well as you, but I’m pretty sure that she’s glad for you to talk to whoever you think might help.” Taylor says.

“It’s like...I love her and everything? But sometimes it’s like… I just need to talk to someone who gets it.”

“I agree,” Taylor says. “As much as my family loves me, there’s always that disconnect between someone who knows what it’s like...and someone who just doesn’t. And trust me, I’ve been in situations that were similar to tonight - where i came away with feelings...and questions...but it wasn’t a situation like this. So, I just ended up feeling like a weirdo.”

“Oh no,” Weston comments. He’s almost done with his noodles. “Did you...I don’t know...ever get an answer to your question? I can try to help?”

Taylor looks past him, her eyes distant. “The feeling was...if I can’t remember what happened...I shouldn’t be affected by it. And that? It got in my head.”

“But I don’t remember a ton of shit from my life...and it  _ all _ affects me. It’s still trauma. That’s fucked up,” Weston says.

“Thank you. That does help,” Taylor says, focused on Weston again.

“I’m just worried that I made the wrong choice? That I lost out on a chance to talk to Sarah, even though I really did wanna talk to you? And what if that fucks everything up going forward? I’ve got a lot going on already, and it’s like...shit.” Weston stops himself.

“You’re allowed to make the choices that feel safest to you. Sometimes talking to a parent, even a safe one, doesn’t feel safe because they don’t share your experience. That’s valid.”

“It’s just hard...because I’ve always like...had to be careful how I handled things and who I told things to.” Weston admits, his mind still on Family Night.

“It’s safe to tell things to whoever you need to,” Taylor says.

“Will you tell Sarah I said good night?” Weston asks, gathering up his cereal box and empty bowl and bringing them to the small kitchen area. He puts the cereal away and washes the bowl.

He glances over and sees Taylor folding the blanket.

“You know I will,” Taylor says.

“Thanks. And thanks for talking.” Weston tells her.

“Anytime,” she says and they get ready to leave together.

\--

Fran’s still awake when she hears the screen door ease open and closed. She sits up in bed so Taylor will know she’s still awake.

When she comes, she smells like outside, and Fran hugs her.

“Good night,” Taylor whispers. “Hop under.”

Even though Fran doesn’t hop anywhere because of CP, Taylor waits while she gets all arranged under the covers, and then Taylor pulls them up and smooths them out over her.

She sings a song about there being nothing new under the moon. It’s soft and gentle, and has Fran going right to sleep.


	39. Benched

On Thursday morning, Francesca is awake even before anybody starts singing.

Today is the talent show! (Well, tonight is.) Fran has been practicing and practicing. It helps that she already knows the song by heart because it’s her favorite, but it’s a hard one to sing. Even though it’s from a kids’ movie, it doesn’t have a simple melody at all.

Fran really hopes she can do it.

She’s dressed by the time Taylor, Sarah, Brighton (and a shy Olivia) all start singing a very old song about Good Vibrations. She’s wearing her sloth shirt from Jesus and her Dobby socks from Dominique. Fran makes her bed while everyone else just starts moving around.

Giselle immediately is in the worst mood. “I’m not doing the talent show. I’m not even going.”

“What do you mean you’re not going?” Fran calls, as Taylor talks Olivia through how to do Fran’s bun hairstyle so that Olivia can talk Fran through it.

“I’m not going,” Giselle repeats. “I’m going to be terrible, so what’s even the point of going?”

“Um, supporting your friends?” Fran asks.

“Hey, we were gonna say that poem we wrote about cats,” Lexie says, a little hurt. “You wrote half of it. You were gonna say the part you wrote and I was gonna say the part I wrote.”

“I can’t memorize and I’m bad at reading off paper…” Giselle grumbles. “It’s embarrassing. My mom is the most expressive reader and I’m just blah.”

“You’re not just blah,” Lexie tells her. “I want to do our poem together.”

“What if somebody was sitting where you could see them...like me? And what if I said your lines for you, and you repeated them?” Olivia asks from the bathroom where Giselle’s brushing her teeth, too. “Would that work?”

“That’s not memorizing or reading,” Giselle objects, sounding confused.

“No, it’s accommodating,” Olivia answers.

“Okay, I guess,” Giselle admits.

\--

The day gets back to being amazing though because there’s fluffy pancakes for breakfast and hot chocolate and she’s allowed to put peanut butter and syrup on her pancakes, just like Levi taught her.

She asks Giselle to take a picture of her and her plate and Giselle does and seems a lot happier.

The hot chocolate at camp is not like Pearl’s hot chocolate at all, but it’s better than no hot chocolate. She sneaked a little bit of coffee into it besides, because she remembered Mari letting her have some. It improves the taste a lot.

Brighton stops everybody by the cabin in case anybody has to tinkle or boom, but no one does.

\--

Fran’s at horseback riding when she suddenly remembers the other thing caffeine does that she forgot about until right this very moment:

The caffeine in coffee always makes her have to pee - or tinkle - as the counselors say. Plus, she drank her regular milk because her pancakes were so sticky. 

Fran thinks about just running back to the cabin herself and not bothering any counselors, but then she remembers what The Avoiders taught her about not giving them breaks without telling them first.

Brighton is talking to the horses, Olivia is talking to Giselle and Taylor is doing a funny voice talking to Lexie. Only Sarah looks like she’s not busy - and Dia isn’t here yet - so Fran wouldn’t feel too bad leaving and coming back.

“Hey…” Fran says, coming up and tapping Sarah on the shoulder.

“Hey!” Sarah says, her face brightening like it always does when she sees Fran. “Are you excited for the big day?”

“I am….and I’m sorry I didn’t go before we got here, but I didn’t have to then, and I really have to tinkle,” she says, using cabin words. She’s starting to use more cabin and camp words for a lot of things.

It’s kind of like being in another world.

Here’s the best part:

Sarah? She doesn’t even get mad at Fran that they were just at the cabin like five minutes ago. She just says, “Sure, I’ll take you.” And she does.

\--

Fran makes it just in time.

Sarah waits outside the stalls, and Fran is glad because she’s needed to talk to Sarah since last night practically. 

“Do you think I should have invited Bella to Family Night?” Fran asks from inside.

“Friend from home?” Sarah guesses.

“Crush from home?” Fran corrects, a little embarrassed. “Because...it’s like...I danced with Jonah last night just as friends. But it made me realize I never even thought about inviting Bella here. Is that wrong?”

“Does Bella have a disability?” Sarah wonders.

“Not that I know of,” Fran admits. She flushes and comes out and washes her hands.

“Then, I think it makes sense that maybe it wasn’t your first instinct to invite her. Dancing with a friend doesn’t mean you betrayed Bella,” Sarah reassures.

“Okay good,” Fran takes a deep breath. “I am so ready for this talent show!” she says as they head for the cabin doors.

“You are much more confident than I was my first time on stage…” Sarah laughs.

“What do you mean?” Fran asks as they head out the door.

“I mean, I was a tree, but I was so shy, I was shaking the whole time. It was so bad another kid in my class ad-libbed and he kept telling the audience that there was a big gust of wind that kept blowing...because I was like this…”

Fran turns toward Sarah, already laughing, because it’s such a funny story when Righty goes sideways - half on a crack and half not - and just like that she’s falling down, down, down.

There’s the loudest crack that Fran can hear. Pain that she can sort of feel, throbbing in her temple, but more than any of that she feels trauma, and tons of embarrassment falling in front of Sarah.

Hurrying as much as she can, Fran uses the bench she hit to help herself up. “There. I’m fine,” she tells Sarah. “We can go.”

But the look on Sarah’s face is way too serious. “Can I see?” Sarah asks.

“ _ There’s...nothing to see! Gather...over there! _ ” Fran says like Mr. Ray in  _ Finding Nemo _ . She really would like to gather where they’re horseback riding and forget that she’s so clumsy.

“Okay, that is really swelling. Fran, I want you to hang onto me, or sit with me on my lap, so I can help you to the nurse,” Sarah instructs.

It doesn’t matter how much Fran tells Sarah she’s fine. She ends up pushing Sarah to the nurse because Fran would rather walk right now than be carried.

The nurse doesn’t help anything. Just gives her a super cold ice pack, and she and Sarah talk in low tones.

“When she fell and hit that bench, the sound echoed. It was so loud. I’m concerned,” Sarah whispers.

“Just based on the swelling alone, I’d recommend taking her in, just to be safe,” the nurse says.

“In, where?” Fran asks.

“Would you like me to get Rosa to take her?” the nurse asks.

“No, I have my car,” Sarah tells her. Then, she turns to Fran. “To Urgent Care, just so they can check you out and make sure you’re okay.”

\--

“Urgent Care is the hospital,” Fran objects. “But I feel fine.”

“Sometimes with head injuries, people can feel fine. Sometimes they really are fine, but it’s always best to make sure.” Sarah says, getting to her car and getting in. She takes her chair apart and puts it inside and then pats the seat next to her.

“No,” Fran shakes her head, taking a step back. “Please don’t make me go to the hospital!” she begs, trying not to cry. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Do you know how much they cost? My moms will be so mad if they get a bill from when I was at camp just because I was clumsy and fell.”

“Francesca. I’m a safe adult, okay? This is what safe adults do when children get hurt sometimes. When the situation calls for it. I can see you’re super scared right now…” Sarah reaches out and takes one of Fran’s hands in hers.

Fran’s hand is ice cold.

“But I need you to trust me, and get in the car,” Sarah finishes gently.

And Fran knows she has no other choice. She can’t really run away from the car and back to horseback riding, plus her head really does kind of hurt.

Sighing, she gets in the car, feeling like her life is over.

Seriously. Moms are going to be so mad.


	40. Gone

Francesca keeps on feeling worse and worse as Sarah drives.

It’s not her head - that feels fine - just a little achy. It’s everything else. It’s her life choices, like Lena would say.

Why wasn’t she paying attention to where her foot was instead of laughing at Sarah’s story? Then none of this would have ever happened.

Fran sniffs. She’s started crying a little bit, because it’s okay. This is camp.

“Is it your head?” Sarah asks, sympathetic. 

“No, it’s my moms…” Fran admits.

“Honey, they won’t be there, okay? This is just a precaution. They signed forms before you came here that let us know it’s okay to get you medical treatment.” Sarah says.

“It doesn’t matter! When they find out I got hurt here, they’ll never let me come back again!” Fran insists, crying harder.

“I’m so sorry you got hurt. And I hear that you’re scared,” Sarah says, and her niceness just makes Fran feel worse. “But I promise you, you’re not in trouble, okay? I’m not bringing you here because you did anything wrong.”

Something about what Sarah’s saying trips in Francesca’s memory. She remembers the playground. And everything that happened after the playground. She spends so much time breathing deep and dusting off the old Magic Carpet in her mind to cover up all her feelings.

Her body doesn’t get the message, though, that they’re trying to be put together.

Fran’s shaking now.

“Are you dizzy? You’re shaking…” Sarah observes, concerned.

“Yeah, because I got in trouble for this before. Last year, I fell and I got detention for three days because of it. And my mom who’s a cop threatened me with jail.”

It’s all out of Fran’s mouth before she realizes that maybe she shouldn’t have said all that.

“Last year… I’m so sorry, Francesca,” Sarah says. “Do you want me to reassure you, or did you have more to say first?”

“I shouldn’t have even said  _ that _ …” Fran mutters, still shaking. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m going to miss the talent show. Oh gosh…” she moans.

“Okay. Listen. This is just a precaution. Chances are, we’ll go in, they’ll check you out, and you’ll be fine.”

“I wanted Taylor to come with me anyways,” Fran grumbles.

“That makes so much sense. Taylor’s amazing. She’s been a great counselor to you, hasn’t she?” Sarah asks, not even one bit jealous.

“Yeah,” Fran sighs, settling down a little.

“It is not your fault you fell. It was just an accident. Accidents happen. No one’s going to threaten you with jail.” Sarah says, like it’s all just that easy.

“They will if I talk back. If I’m too loud,” Fran remembers.

“I’m protecting you,” Sarah says. “That means you have all your feelings. Especially here in the car, if you want to cry or scream or be mad, you can do all those things.”

“It’s too late. The Magic Carpet’s already down,” Fran says, and it’s another one of those things she never even planned to say.

“The Magic Carpet? Like from  _ Aladdin _ ?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah,” Fran admits. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”

\--

Sarah pulls into the parking lot of the local Urgent Care and prepares to try to talk Fran out of the car. She doesn’t expect it when she comes and stands stoically next to her. Sarah offers her a hand. Fran’s hand is ice cold. They go inside together.

The last place Sarah wants to be is anywhere medical, but Francesca needs medical attention, and Sarah needs to get it for her.

They stop by the front desk and Sarah urges Fran to take the ice down and show them her bump. Despite the ice, it’s really swollen. Noticeably so. They’re told to have a seat and wait to be called.

Luckily, Sarah came prepared, Weston also really dislikes appointments, and waiting could be brutal, especially in the early days. Sarah hands over her bright pink tablet, where she’s navigated to Netflix and it shows Fran every rated G safe show that exists.

“Sometimes it helps to just block this stuff out,” Sarah advises.

Fran holds tightly to her hand, and offers Sarah one earbud.

They both tune into a long, adorable documentary on service dogs. It seems to calm Fran down, and it doesn’t do a bad job with Sarah’s nerves either. She’s filled in all the paperwork, and now all they can do is wait.

“I’m bored,” Fran says, her teeth chattering. 

Sarah’s heart breaks at seeing this little girl’s trauma. “We’ll be out of here soon, and hey, even if for some reason, you can’t go perform in person at the talent show? I’m gonna make sure you’re there somehow.”

“It’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal,” Fran says.

They watch a baking show that Francesca recommends next, and another, and another, until they’re finally called back:

“Francesca Adams Foster?”

Eyes flicker across the room. Recognition sparks in a pair of eyes, but Sarah makes quick work of moving both of them along.

She keeps forgetting Fran is recognizable.

\--

Weston is officially panicking now. 

It was fine during horseback riding hour. He knows that sometimes things come up, and maybe Sarah and Francesca ran into some trouble or something or needed to talk something out.

But now they’ve been through Arts and Crafts. They’re through lunch, even - it was mac and cheese and chicken noodle soup. And it was when the other kids started to notice Fran and Sarah being gone for real.

None of their counselors seemed to know what was up.

Shit gets even more real when Weston makes up an excuse and checks out the parking lot and sees Sarah’s car isn’t there.

Now that lunch is over and Weston has an excuse to go to the office because he always gets the mail, he skids to a stop in front of Rosa.

“Hey…” he says a little breathless. “Do you know where my-- Sarah is? Sarah Jensen?”

Rosa scopes out around Weston before she speaks. “She had a situation with one of the campers, and they needed to go into town.” 

“Oh. A situation like…?” he asks, shifting his weight.

“A private situation,” Rosa tells him, but he can see the regret in her eyes. “They’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Is she okay, though? Is Sarah okay?” he asks.

“She drove, so I think she’s more than okay,” Rosa reassures. “Are  _ you _ okay? Need to sit down a minute?”

Weston all but collapses into a chair. “She just usually tells me. I mean -- I know -- I was there when she was trained in emergencies. We talked about it after, it just... It didn’t seem like it would ever happen.”

“When she gets back, I’ll be sure to tell her you’re looking for her.” Rosa says.

“She’ll know,” Weston says, standing up to leave.

Just then, Roman’s office door opens. “Hey. Sarah’s alright. She’s just got a situation with a camper. Once they deal with that, she’s coming right back.”

“Yeah. I know. Thank you,” Weston says, heading out the door.

“Did you want to grab the mail?” Rosa asks.

“Oh. Shit, yeah.” Weston remembers. He pulls out a pile, and a bright pink Post-It falls to the ground.

He picks it up. 

It’s a drawing of two bats joined by a heart.

That’s it. 

Even without names he knows:

It’s for him. From Sarah.

But the emptiness he feels right now...the loneliness… The...just everything...of being left suddenly pulls him down like he’s got sandbags on his feet.

Even though Weston knows it’s not rational, he can’t help the thoughts that come:

Is she pissed that he chose to talk to Taylor instead of her?

Is the Post-It some weird goodbye that he should have seen coming?

Numbly, Weston walks back to the cabin.

What if this was it? All the time he was ever going to have with Mister? What if he never sees her again?


	41. Covered

It feels like it takes forever for Francesca’s turn to arrive. When the person calls her name, Fran can feel the eyes on her of someone who recognizes who she is.

Darn it all, and darn that nurse person for calling out her name so loud like that. Now, the news of her being here will be everywhere, possibly.

In good news, just like Francesca’s been saying for hours, there’s nothing wrong. The doctor says because her bump (which is ginormous by now) is swelling out and she never lost consciousness or felt woozy, that’s a good thing.

“Ice and rest is the best thing for her.”

“I was gonna do that anyways,” Francesca mutters. She leaves without even saying thanks, because why should she thank someone for telling her what she already knew, when she didn’t even want to come here.

“There’s somebody who knows me out here…” Fran whispers to Sarah. Her head aches.

“I saw,” Sarah reassures. “I’ll make sure they don’t bother you.”

“But I look like a weirdo, with a thing coming out of my head…” Fran protests. “She’ll know, and she’ll tell everyone and Moms will find out…”

“Look,” Sarah urges, scoping out the waiting room like they’re spies. “She’s gone. She’s not even out here.”

“Whew,” Fran sighs. ‘That’s a relief.”

They get in the car and Sarah drives them back to camp. Fran’s stomach grumbles. She even forgot her Dementor bars at camp.

“We’ll stop somewhere and get lunch. What do you feel like?” Sarah asks.

“I don’t have money. I mean, I have, like four dollars…” Fran worries.

“No, it’s my treat. What’s your favorite?” she asks.

“Starbucks?” Fran asks. “I really want a S’mores frappucino…”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” Sarah sighs. 

Inside, Sarah even lets Fran get the PB&J protein box. It comes with carrots, apples and string cheese. She washes the jelly in the sandwich down with lots of frappucino and offers Sarah her chocolate covered raisins.

“I’m not even hungry so I don’t know why I’m eating…” Fran mutters around a mouthful of sandwich.

“Having an appetite is a good thing,” Sarah encourages. “But you don’t have to finish everything. Just eat what you want.”

“Oh,” Fran says. She takes the sandwich apart and puts the two peanut butter halves together. There’s still some jelly on it, but oh well. “I’m still not going to be able to sing tonight. I just know it. Not the way I want to.”

“That’s a big loss, isn’t it? Kind of scary? To not know if you’ll be able to do something the way you want?”

Fran slurps her drink annoyingly. She is not in a good mood right now. Her head’s hurting because she can’t hold her ice on her head and eat at the same time.

“I just want this to have never even happened…” Fran manages.

“I want that, too. I’m so sorry it did,” Sarah tells her.

“This is the worst day ever…” Fran moans.

\--

It strikes Sarah that most kids might say they want to go home after something traumatic happens like this. They might want their parents. But Fran’s only reaction had been fear at her moms finding out.

Sarah didn’t have the best relationship with her parents, but she was never afraid to tell them things. Not like Fran is. Fran’s reaction reminds Sarah a lot of Jolene, who also grew up with parents who ostracized her and made her feel fundamentally wrong because of things he couldn’t help.

She wishes there were more she could do. But Sarah can’t do what Fran wishes. She can’t rewind time. So she does the next best thing and gets her back to camp (and Taylor, maybe the only person who can offer comfort right now) as soon as possible.

“What? It’s 1:44? I won’t get any rest time…” Fran objects.

“Oh, you’ll get rest time. I texted Taylor and she’s gonna hang out with you - just you guys - while Brighton and Olivia take everybody else to Swimming and Boating.”

“Where are you going to be?” Fran asks, confused.

“I’m going to be with Weston,” Sarah says.

Now that the crisis has passed for the most part, Sarah knows she’s going to need to check in with Weston, and possibly for longer than their two-hour break allows. Having Sarah unexpectedly disappear for four and a half hours would be nothing short of traumatic for him. 

The minute they pull up, Rosa’s there, coming out of the office. “Francesca, how are you?” she asks.

“Fine,” Fran grumbles. “The doctor even said. Ice and rest.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Rosa says. She drops her voice to address Sarah:

“You’re gonna want to find Weston as soon as time allows. He was in my office after lunch, pretty freaked out that he couldn’t find you,” Rosa explains. You can take the elective hour if you can make it work with the rest of your staff. If you need an extra set of hands there, let me know. We can figure something out to cover, to make sure you guys have enough help.”

“Thank you. Let me just get Fran settled, and I’ll do that,” Sarah nods.

“Feel better, Fran,” Rosa calls softly.

Francesca waves over her shoulder.

\--

Walking back into the cabin, Fran’s glad there’s not a ton of big reactions to her. 

“Fran, are you okay?” Giselle asks.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, collapsing on her bed.

She moves over, because she can tell she’s lying on something. Fran finds it without trying: a pile of fat Crayola markers. She knows without asking that they’re from Dia.

She glances up and sees her friend is pacing and making more upset noise than usual.

“Dia’s been worried about you,” Olivia passes along. “She’s having trouble spelling, but she wants me to tell you that. And she wanted you to have her markers.”

“Thank you, Dia,” Fran calls.

Taylor comes over and sits on Fran’s bed next to her. She opens her arms, and that’s all it takes for Francesca to start crying again. “I’m not gonna be able to be in the talent show,” she sobs. “And I have a huge bump on my head, and I look  _ weird _ !”

“That’s so much,” Taylor says gently, hugging her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Fran holds on as tight as she can.

She’s still crying when something soft gets flung onto her lap. Fran thinks it’s tissue until she looks down and sees it. It’s Dia’s scarf. She wears the same one every single day in her hair. It’s deep blue with an orange yellow fringe. It’s silky smooth.

Fran offers it back, thinking maybe it fell off her friend’s head.

It’s her first time seeing Dia’s hair, cut short to her scalp, almost in a traditional boy style.

“Here,” Fran says, offering it to Dia, but Dia shoves it back at Fran, hard.

“Dia, do you want Fran to have this?” Taylor asks.

Dia manages to nod after a long time.

“But this is really fancy,” Fran says. Plus, she sees a worse problem. Dia’s pulling at her hair now that it’s uncovered.

“Here. I’ve got a solution,” Taylor says and gets up. She disappears behind the counselor curtain and comes back out with a bright red bandana.

“Francesca, you can wear this if you want,” Taylor offers. 

“Yes,” Fran says and then turns to Dia. “Not because I don’t appreciate you giving yours to me, but because I want your hair to be safe. Can I put this back on you?” she asks.

Dia surprises her by nodding, and Fran carefully reties the scarf the way Dia had it. 

“Too tight?” Fran asks, holding her hands up.

Dia picks the  _ no _ hand, then lunges at Fran to hug her really hard.

“I love you, too,” Fran says. She drops her voice to a whisper: “Also, my crush has a buzz haircut, so…” she smiles. “Just in case you were embarrassed about your hair, don’t be.”

Dia taps Taylor on the shoulder and gestures to the bandana.

“Ah, you’re right. We should make sure Fran’s head is safe, too. I’m gonna tie this gently, but you let me know if it’s too tight.” Taylor says.

“It’s not,” Fran says.

Then, it’s time for the rest of the cabin to get ready for swimming and boating. And it’s time for Fran and Taylor to hang out, just the two of them.

Fran gets comfy on her bed, and finds an envelope sticking out from under her pillow. Fran checks it.

A letter. 

With a return address that says Wests!

Pearl and Levi!

Fran rips open the letter and reads:

_ Tuesday June 28th, 2022 _

_ Dear Francesca, _

_ How are you doing? How is camp?  _

_ Levi and I are doing well. Things are calm again after the blizzard, and we are trying to get things in order to move out to California (hopefully soon - we’re waiting for that phone call!) _

_ We hope you have a great time this week and we can’t wait to hear all about it when you get back! _

_ We miss you! _

_ Love, Pearl _

_ \-- _

_ Hi Francesca, _

_ I miss you and I hope you’re having the best time this week. Take lots of pictures and know that we are at home waiting for you with open arms. But what a great opportunity for you to be with other kids from your community.. We love you. _

_ Love Levi _

\--

By the time Fran’s finished reading, everybody has left the cabin except for her and Taylor. Taylor even brought her more ice for her head and is just sitting on her bed.

“Is it okay if I take a nap?” Fran asks. “I promise I don’t feel dizzy or anything, I just need a break.”

“Rest as long as you need. This is rest time. I’ll be here,” Taylor promises as Fran closes her eyes.


	42. Trustrated

When Sarah shows up at the cabin before afternoon elective, there’s no happy reunion. He’s wary. When she talks to Koa and Sylvan and Pablo, he can’t listen.

It’s like, yeah, you’re here, but for how long?

They don’t drive off campus this time. They stay right at camp. They go to the lounge. Weston feels the distance between them like a sea. Like water - not hurting them - just making it so fucking hard to close that distance.

His trust is all messed up. It’s this feeling he got a lot as a kid. One he never had a name for ‘til one night when he was doing Keyboarding homework back in high school. He went to type ‘frustrating’ and his finger went for the  _ t _ instead of the  _ f _ . And boom.

He had a word for all those damn times he trusted Ashley - or Paul - Weston’s stepdad - to be different this time around, when they never were.

His trust was always wrong. Because deep down, Weston knew, even at seven years old, eight years old, even when things were okay, they never stayed okay.

“Stun? Hey, Weston?” 

Shit. Sarah’s talking to him. How long has that been going on?

“However you’re feeling is okay,” she tells him gently. She pauses. “How are you feeling?”

“You know....like when the social worker put me back with Ashley? When I was five? Like that,” he shares, the words for specific feelings gone now that he needs them.

“Okay. So maybe you’re wary…” she ventures. “That would make sense. I didn’t leave you on purpose, Weston, okay? I promise you that. This was one of those emergency situations that I talked about you with when I had training.”

“I know,” Weston nods. “I get it. I understand. Rosa and Roman...they explained it, too. So…” he shrugs. “It makes sense.”

Finally, Weston settles in a corner of the lounge in a beanbag chair. Sarah gets down out of her chair and is on the floor near him. But the comfort of the chair makes other feelings rise up in him. Hurt ones. “I just… Why would you do this?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can sense the motion of her hand, reaching for him. 

His body jerks like he’s been shocked. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

“Okay,” she says, quiet. “That makes sense. I’m staying right here. I’m not going to leave you--”

“ _ You already did! _ You did! You fucking  _ left  _ me with nothing but a fucking Post-It note to figure out what it all meant.” Weston manages, feeling his heart pound.

“Oh...Weston. Honey, that wasn’t meant to be a goodbye. I’m so sorry. It was just one of our silly drawings we leave for each other. I did it after breakfast, before anything happened… I wanted to give you something to make you smile…”

“Well, it didn’t…” he says, his voice cracking. He breathes. “I’m sorry. I know. We do. We do that all the time. Thank you. Thank you...for coming back.”

“Weston, I will always come back,” Sarah says, and he glances at her. It’s one of the very first things he learned, living with her. If she went anywhere, even in the house, she’d always come back. She’d never stay gone.

“Just like you said when I first came?” he asks, quiet.

“Just like I said when you first came,” Sarah confirms.

There’s no talking then. And she doesn’t try to fill it. Finally, Weston asks: “How’s Fran?”

“She’s gonna be okay,” Sarah nods. “Taylor’s with her, so she’s safe.”

Weston’s brain veers. “I thought--” he stutters. “I thought that was maybe what did it…”

“You thought...?” she asks.

“Taylor,” he fills in. “I thought maybe that it was me going to talk to her last night...choosing her over you...maybe that made you mad. Mad enough to leave…” Weston admits.

“That must’ve felt so scary. I’m so sorry,” Sarah tells him.

“Yeah,” is all Weston can manage.

“I wasn’t ever mad about that, Weston. I promise you. I told you then that I want you to talk to whoever you need to talk to. Whoever will help you the most. If that person’s not me? I don’t take that personally,” Sarah explains patiently.

“So, why? Why did you even do it in the first place?” Weston demands.

“Why did I leave? Let’s review. I left with Fran because--” Sarah begins, but Weston cuts her off.

“--There was an emergency. I know. But I didn’t  _ know _ . I knew you left horseback riding with Fran and I expected to see you guys back, at least within the hour. And then you just...you weren’t!” Weston explains. “And I had to keep fucking working. The same fucking thing as before. The story of my fucking life! Just keep moving forward!”

“I bet that felt terrible,” Sarah offers.

“So, why did you do it?!” he asks again. “Because I don’t understand how you can-- How you can  _ love _ me-- How you can  _ promise _ all this shit that you promise, and then just vanish from my fucking life!”

“What do you wish happened?” Sarah asks.

“Tell me!” he exclaims. “Send word that you have to go. Of where you’re going. Of whatever. Tell me.”

“Honey, if there had been any way at all...I would have,” Sarah insists, her eyes focused and serious. “And I’m sure it felt like the worst thing to have me go and not come back when you expected me to.”

“Because, yeah, you always come back...but when? In a year?” Weston quips. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Sarah says. “And I know it’s not the answer you want, but I’ll always come back to you...as soon as I possibly can.”

“It wasn’t ‘cause you were mad?” Weston checks again. “Or because you didn’t love me?”

“No, I’m not mad. And I love you always. I was loving you the whole entire time I was gone. I was thinking about you in the waiting room with Fran…”

“I hate waiting…” Weston comments.

“I know you do,” Sarah says, sympathetic. “You had to wait a long time, didn’t you? And it wasn’t fair.”

“For a lot of shit. For a home and safety, For a safe adult who fucking stayed. I thought I found that with you,” he blinks back tears.

“You  _ did _ find that with me, honey. I’m here. And I know it hurt and scared you so much that I had to leave unexpectedly. Do you want to come and sit on the couch with me?”

Weston shakes his head. 

He feels rooted to this spot. To this beanbag. For reasons he can’t explain. 

“No. I just need space. Please,” he says, even though it kills him. Space is what did this in the first place, but he can’t help his instincts.

“You got it,” Sarah says. “I’ll stay right here where you can see me.”


	43. Grounding

“You know this isn’t just gonna be okay in a few hours, right?” Weston asks, after a silence.

“I know,” Sarah answers. “I know you’re not okay. And that’s understandable. It’s going to take time to heal our trust again - probably until long after we go home.”

Weston studies her. “And you’re just fine with that?”

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to expect you to get over this in three hours, Stun. It isn’t fair of me to expect you to get over trauma at all. I know it doesn’t work like that.”

Weston shrugs. He’s tried all kinds of things so far. Telling himself where he is. That his trauma from a long time ago is active, but that doesn’t mean it can hurt him now. 

It doesn’t help.

“I’m screwed, right?” he says helplessly. “I’m just gonna be dealing with this shit forever. Seriously. None of the grounding shit is helping at all....”

“Hey. Do you remember it’s you and me?” Sarah asks, and something in Weston relaxes the tiniest bit.

“You and me?” he asks, softly.

“You and me. That means you’re not alone with any of this. You have me. I’m your safe adult, and I can help you. If you consent.”

“I think...I might just need you to take care of me…” he admits. “I don’t feel like an adult right now…”

“That’s really good to know. Thank you for telling me what you need.” Then, Sarah gets in her chair and comes over to Weston, extending her hands to him. “Can you take my hands and stand up? And we’ll get you some food?”

“I don’t need it. I’m not even hungry,” Weston comments, taking Sarah’s hands and standing up.

“Can you hold my hand?” Sarah asks. “Food is a basic need. And especially when you’re triggered, it’s even more important to make sure your basic needs are met.”

She finds the box of Count Chocula in the pantry and hands it to him. Then she goes with him as he makes some vanilla flavored Starbucks from Roman’s fancy collection of coffees.

Sarah makes another one for herself, too. Hazelnut flavored.

They bring the coffee and the cereal back to the couch. Sarah gets settled first and then pats the couch beside her. “Wanna sit?” she invites.

He does, but leaves some space between them.

Weston opens the box of cereal - already over half gone - and eats some dry out of the box. He blows on his coffee and drinks some. 

“This is better…” he confesses. “But it’s also worse.”

“Yeah? How is it better?” Sarah wonders.

“To be closer to you, I guess? That you want me closer?” Weston tries to explain.

“I do want you closer,” Sarah confirms. “And how is it worse? Do you want to say?”

“Because I’m trusting you...even though you let me down. So it’s like, I know it’s gonna happen again.”

“Your brain - and the trauma in there - is so good at picking up patterns. So, times like this? It says, _ “I don’t even need the whole pattern. I know how this goes.” _ Right?”

“Yeah, that’s what it’s like,” Weston agrees. “You do want me?” he double checks.

“I do want you,” Sarah confirms.

“I don’t--” Weston starts, fidgeting. “I don’t really feel like that’s true. You left me alone. You didn’t even tell me. You just left. That’s not, like,  _ ‘I want you.’ _ That’s a pretty fucking loud: ‘I  _ don’t _ want you.”

Weston’s up again and before he knows it, he’s back in the beanbag in the corner, but with the cereal this time.

Sarah’s far from him on the couch, but she starts for her chair right away and parks right where she did before. She gets down on the floor again, close enough to touch him, but she doesn’t.

“Do you remember...after you drew fangs on Jennifer?” Sarah asks conspiratorially.

Weston remembers the Cabbage Patch doll. The Sharpie fangs. He shrugs. So what if he does?

“Do you remember...a little while after that...after court...after your adoption… What happened then? Grandma and Grandpa wanted us to go out to eat with them, right?”

“And they wanted us to change out of our costumes,” Weston remembers.

“Yes, and so then what happened?” Sarah asks.

“I don’t remember? We went Trick or Treating?” Weston squints.

“I took you aside...and I asked you…’ _ Where do you most want to be right now _ ?’ And you said, ‘ _ The grocery store _ .’ And so, we went. And it’s while we were there...that you found a…”

“Pineapple… Oh yeah…” Weston smiles a little at the memory. “A real one. I thought they were only on TV, like, in the tropics, but it was a real one. And when you saw how much I liked her...and you bought her for me. And you put a fancy ribbon in her leaves...silver...with curls.”

He still has the ribbon, tied to a strap of his gym bag. It’s frayed and faded, and you can’t even tell it used to be a ribbon, but Weston knows.

“Yeah. And then, you got to hold her, and you were so happy…” Sarah smiles gently at him.

“I thought pineapples were girls because of their leaves. That was kinda stupid, right? I thought their leaves were like their hair…” Weston shares.

“No, it’s not stupid,” Sarah reassures. “I’m sure I didn’t help your assumption by giving it a pretty ribbon…” she grins gently at him.

“I loved that pineapple. I think I loved her even more than I loved destroying your doll… Sorry. That was mean. I didn’t love destroying it, I just…”

“You were hurting,” Sarah fills in. “And was glad we found something that you love and enjoy.”

“We still get pineapples,” Weston realizes. “You still put ribbons in their leaves.”

“I do,” Sarah shares.

“Why?” Weston asks.

“Because it makes you happy. It’s something that you have a bond with,” Sarah explains. “I want you to have that. As often as you can stand it.”

“Oh,” Weston thinks a minute. “Most kids, they bond with toys, right? Like Jesse, he has his stuffed rabbit?”

“A lot of kids do,” Sarah nods. “But not every kid. Some kids lost their possessions so often that the only thing that felt safe to bond with...maybe was a fancy food they saw on TV…and that’s okay.”

“You don’t think it makes me weird as hell?” Weston asks.

“I think it makes you my Stun, who I love very much,” Sarah says. “Do you think you can come back to the couch with me?” she asks. She’s back in her chair now, extending her hand.

Weston takes it, grunting a little as he stands up. “I wish we had another pineapple…”

“Well, let’s pick one up on the way home from camp,” Sarah suggests, holding Weston’s hand as they walk back to the couch.

“I can pick her out? I know how to tell if she’s ripe and everything,” Weston reminds Sarah, cautiously optimistic.

“You’re great at selecting pineapples. You sure can pick her out. Saturday morning,” she grins.

“Thanks, Mister,” Weston says, finally feeling a little joy on top of all his fear.


	44. Runner

“I feel like running.”

Weston’s back on the couch. He’s tried different positions. Sitting with a gap between them. Sitting right up next to Mister. Resting with his head in her lap. It’s while he’s doing this last one - while she’s stroking his hair - which he said yes to - that Weston’s finally able to tell her the feeling he has.

“You feel like running?” she asks. She doesn’t stop stroking his hair, even though he expects her to. It’s something that feels good, and if Ashley or Paul ever found something that Weston liked, they made sure he didn’t have it for long. Or that they used it against him.

Weston glances up at Sarah. This is different. She’s his Mister. She’s not mad. She’s said it ten times.

She must see something in his eyes, because Sarah reassures him then: “It’s okay, honey. It makes me happy when you’re honest with me. And...no matter how I’m feeling? I always want to make sure you’re feeling safe and comforted.”

“Oh,” Weston says. He’s wishing like hell he had his first pineapple’s ribbon with him right now, but he doesn’t.

“Did you want to say any more about running?” Sarah asks after a pause.

“It’s what I’ve been doing since I was ten,” Weston says. He feels empty saying it. Lonely as hell. “It was after Christmas because I was begging the Hoffmans for a rabbit...so I could have something to pull out of a hat...when I asked them, like  _ “When are you going to adopt me?” _

“Because you always wanted to be a magician,” Mister fills in lovingly, still touching his hair gently. “And what did they say back?”

“I was definitely expecting them to say, like,  _ ‘Whenever the judge has an opening,’ _ or whatever, because my bio dad’s rights had finally just been terminated. But they were like,  _ “We can’t do that, but we’re working on finding you a forever home.” _

“Oh, no… Honey. How did that feel?” Sarah asks, so concerned. Like this is the first time he’s shared this memory and not, like, the twentieth.

“It felt...like a shock,” Weston admits. I was like, “ _ But I didn’t even do anything, why don’t you want me?” _

“And what did they say? Do you remember?” Sarah asks.

“They said:  _ “You’re a great kid, it’s just not what we do.” _ They said it just like that,” Weston says, reciting their response by rote.

“What did you hear?” Sarah asks.

_ “‘You’re a great kid...to have for a while?’ ‘We have our own kids.’ ‘You’re not even worth it.’ _

“You’re not worth what?” Sarah asks.

“Loving,” Weston fills in, matter of fact.

“So you felt very sad and rejected after that conversation. What happened next? Do you want to share?” Sarah asks.

Weston sits up and shrugs. “I ran away the next day. It was a school day and I just...took off at recess. Nobody told them right away that I was gone, but when I didn’t come back on the bus, they knew. I hid in backyards and shit, and by the time they found me, I was planning out how I was gonna sleep under the jungle gym on the playground at school. They couldn’t get in to get me, and it took them forever to convince me to come out. I think they threatened to call the social worker.”

“That must’ve been so scary,” Sarah comments.

“I kept running...off and on..after that. But I’ve never had to run from you, because I knew this was for good. Because you never left me.” Weston shares.

“You don’t seem like you  _ want _ to run… Do you?” Sarah asks, genuinely curious.

“No. I don’t. Not at all. But it-- It’s in me,” he manages. “Almost like an impulse.”

“It _ is _ like an impulse, you’re right. Because your brain is so good at picking up on patterns, like we said? Yours is telling you,  _ “Uh oh. We feel rejected and abandoned. What do we do next?” _

“Run,” Weston shrugs. “But I don’t want to...so...what does that leave?”

“Well…” Sarah pats her lap and Weston cautiously lays his head there again. He feels for her hand and lets it rest on his head. She starts touching his hair again. “I could tell you how that conversation would go -- the one with the Hoffmans? I can tell you how it would go with me. Would you like to hear that?”

Weston isn’t sure he would.

“Would you like to hear how much I love you and want you?” Sarah clarifies.

He nods.

“So...you be you. And I’ll be me. And let’s pretend...do you want to pretend you’re ten or thirteen when you actually moved in?”

“Ten,” Weston decides. He’s focused on the back of the cereal box which is on the floor by his hand. He’s tracing a maze with his finger.

“Okay. So when you were ten, what did you say? What were you saying to the Hoffmans that day?”

“I won’t hurt the rabbit. It’s not animal cruelty if he likes being in the hat,” Weston remembers, like it was yesterday.

“Ah, well, we can definitely discuss getting a rabbit at some point. Maybe as a pet once we learn more about it. But it’s not kind to treat animals like objects.” Sarah explains.

“Oh,” he says, surprised. “So… When are you going to adopt me?” The question is quiet. Timid. There are tears in his eyes from out of nowhere. He sniffs.

“Hey,” she says, responding to all of his emotions. “You need a hug, don’t you?”

He can’t talk, so he nods.

Mister gathers him to her and holds on so tight. “I will adopt you...at the very first opportunity I have. Because I love you so much. Because I want you to stay with me forever and be my Stun. Or, you know, as long as you want...because we don’t control our family.”

“Forever,” Weston manages, against her shirt.

“Forever it is, then,” she holds onto him for longer. “And guess what?” she asks, pulling back to look at him at arms’ length. There are tears on her cheeks as she turns her head and moves her hair.

He can see her two bats flying.

“You  _ are _ adopted. It happened, Weston. And I know it was a huge change. And a lot of loss. And it was permanency all at once, wasn’t it?”

“It was...yeah.” Weston nods.

“Do you _ feel _ adopted?” she wonders.

“I think so...but I still...don’t feel okay…” he admits.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to feel okay. I’m just wondering how secure you feel...with you and me...with right now?”

“My bats are still there?” he asks, turning his head for her to look for them.

“They are,” she says. “They look wonderful.”

“Okay. Then, yeah, I feel secure,” he says, and leans against her.


	45. Dissolve

It doesn’t last.

That feeling of security? It just doesn’t.

Sometime later, when Weston’s still staring around the room and staying close to Sarah, it all comes apart, and it takes Weston forever to even start to figure out what went wrong.

Weston’s spotted some toys. Not just sensory toys but like, regular old toys. Little plastic pegs with heads. An airplane and a bus for them. A dump truck - not for them. He lazily stretches out a foot and snags the truck by sticking his shoe in the back part and pulling it over.

It’s like having one skate on that doesn’t fit, but Weston doesn’t mind the rolling.

“Are you a dump truck fan?” Sarah asks.

“I don’t know…” he ventures, but he pulls the truck closer with his foot as Sarah’s phone vibrates with a text.

“Oh. That’s Olivia. She’s wondering how we’re doing, and if there’s anything she can do to help. So sweet…”

Weston’s sort of half-listening. He’s repositioned himself so his head’s in Mister’s lap but his arm is hanging over the couch. He’s got his hand in the back part of the truck. It’s big enough to put a bunch of shit in. He glances around, for what’s around here that he can dump.

“...So...I’m just texting her back right now…” Sarah says.

By now, Weston’s off the couch and doing some serious exploration of this lounge / break room to see how much he can collect to dump out of the truck.

“...Thanks...for...thinking of us… Be...back...later…” 

Weston feels a flood of fear and just like that he’s back on the couch and clutching Mister by the arm. He has no idea what this is. He just knows he can’t let go of her.

He hears Sarah’s voice then: “Oh, hey… You’re scared I’m going to leave you, huh? I’m not going to leave you, honey. I meant we’ll be back later together.”

Weston holds on tighter.

“Okay. I’m right here,” Sarah reassures, but it doesn’t reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere. Did that scare you?”

“I don’t know…” Weston admits. It’s as honest as he can be. He doesn’t know what this is. What’s happening. He just knows he feels like it’s life or death, keeping Mister here.

“Okay. It’s okay not to know,” Sarah soothes. “I’m not leaving, okay? No one’s leaving.”

“I don’t know…” Weston ventures. He can hear what she’s saying, but he can’t really take it in. Can’t really believe it. It doesn’t feel true. It feels like he’s two seconds away from losing her. From losing everything.

“You don’t know that I’m not leaving… I see that. I see you’re scared. I love you. Mister loves you, okay?”

“I don’t know,” he manages. He’s back to looking around the room. For what, he’s not sure.

“We’re okay here, Weston. I’m protecting you,” Sarah says gently.

But Weston’s eyes land on the door across the room. On the truck on the floor. And in one second, he’s picked up the truck and thrown it -- as hard as he can -- toward the door.

“I _don’t know_!” He yells it. He’s not right. Something is seriously wrong, but he can’t figure it out.

He glances once at Sarah, expecting her to look scared, or mad, or something. Instead, she looks like a lightbulb is turning on inside her head.

“Hey, Stun?” she says softly.

He looks, fast, and then back at the floor. At the truck on its side. The back at an angle, spilling out whatever invisible junk was there.

“I know.” Sarah tells him.

“I don’t know…” he tells her helplessly.

“It’s okay not to know. _I_ know. I can help,” she offers. Her mouth keeps moving but he can't hear anything she's saying now.

There’s a lot of silence then. So loud it takes him a minute to realize it’s not silence. His hearing tunnels, a stress response, making it sound like he’s listening to the ocean in one of those giant shells aunt Jolene has. He’s hyperfocused on the truck. The yellow in the wheels and the back. The black tires and the cab. He can’t tell what color that is.

“I’m sorry,” he says it so quiet he’s not sure she can hear it. But she nods. When she speaks again his hearing has cleared.

“All your feelings are okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. But I can help. If you want. With what that was? What happened? I think I know.”

“Yeah… It was a...flashback.” he comments, scrubbing a hand down his face. He’s still not ready to sit down yet. Weston blinks. Sarah’s in front of him. “What?” he asks.

“Can you come and sit down?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he nods, grateful she’s there. He hangs onto a handlebar as she goes back to the couch and gets settled again.

He sits down, cautious.

“Thank you…” he ventures.

“Honey, I’ll always come for you,” Sarah reassures. 

“You said...you could help?” he asks.

“I can. Do you need to take a minute first?” Sarah asks.

And he really, probably does. So he breathes.

“I’m sorry…” he manages.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. We have time. You need a hug?”

And he does. So bad, it hurts.

He nods, and she gathers him to her.

And everything feels like it’s better.

It breaks him apart.


	46. Halls

Weston doesn’t.

He doesn’t really calm down. 

It’s like, with the hug, he can just barely keep his shit together, even though at first it made him break down and feel every damn sad feeling ever. It’s like, when Mister holds him like this, so they can feel each other’s hearts beat, it gets in that she’s staying.

He hugs her hard.

“Tell me…” he practically begs. “You said you knew something.”

“Okay,” Mister says, taking a deep breath. “Let’s count first. What do you think?”

Weston thinks it’s a fucking waste of time, but he tries anyway. When they get to twenty, he feels the tiniest bit better, just because it happens exactly the same every time. 

“Tell me,” he tries again.

“Okay. This is going to be hard to hear...or it might help you make sense of what you’re feeling...or it might do both.” Mister cautions, still hugging him to her. 

He’s still holding on for dear life, too.

“I want to know,” he tells her.

“You know how when you were eighteen, I shared with you that I’d finally gotten all the records I’d requested on your behalf? Everything they had? And I offered to look through it with you a little bit at a time if you ever wanted to?” Sarah begins, taking her time.

“Yeah. I remember.”

Sarah had kept him updated on the whole process, even back when she started it when he was fourteen. She’d update him every few months on how it was going. It’s only been two years since she told him she finally had everything there was to have in his file - some pieces had been hard to find. But he hadn’t been ready to see it yet. He lived it, so he didn’t need to read some official person’s take on him. Sarah respected that.

“I know, the last time we talked about it...a few months ago...you told me you still weren’t feeling ready… I just need you to know that there’s a few sentences in there that might explain what you’re feeling.” Sarah explains.

She’s quiet then, giving Weston time to take this in.

“You read everything, like I said you could?” he checks. “So you’d understand me better?”

“I did,” Sarah tells him sadly.

“Just, like, what happened though, right? You didn’t believe the crap they wrote about me being hard to place...even though I  _ was _ hard to place...or, like, their version of what happened when I had to move houses?” Weston hedges, holding on tighter.

“I believe that behavior is communication. And I believe that yours made all the sense in the world. I never believed a word from anybody who said you were hard to place. It was the easiest thing in the world for me to make a place for you,” Sarah says. “One where you’d feel safe, even if the safety took a while to sink in.”

“What did the few sentences say about me?” he asks, guarded.

“Well…” Sarah begins. “It was an early report from a social worker who talked to your mom, when you were in care between the ages of three and five.”

“I don’t remember,” he says. (He does remember some, but he’s not sure what this report will say.)

“Are you still okay to hear more?” Sarah checks.

“Yeah. I want to know what this is,” he maintains.

“So… In this report, there’s a lot typed up by the social worker about the conversation with Ashley. It seems like she was having a hard time getting herself safe enough for you to come back. It said that she mentioned how unfair it was that she was being called an unfit parent when they should go talk to  _ her _ mother, about what  _ she _ did to you.”

“What-- What did she do to me?” Weston asks, and in his head, he’s reeling. He had never known he even had another grandma besides Sarah’s parents.

“Your mom mentioned that she had a habit...of dropping you off outside her apartment door without knocking. She said this happened at least twice, before you were two years old. Once, she found you alone in the hall without any of your things. And that all you had with you was a toy dump truck. She said you looked like you’d been out there for quite a while,” Sarah explains, apologetic.

“So, when I threw the truck…” Weston pulls back and turns to look at it, still abandoned on the floor. “Shit. That’s not even mine. I’m gonna be in so much trouble.”

“Honey? If it’s in the break room, everybody knows that big feelings happen here, and the toys in here are pretty indestructible. It looks okay. Are  _ you _ …? Okay?”

“She left me in the hall?” Weston asks, fidgeting.

“She did…” Sarah says, apologetic.

“For, like, a few minutes, right?” Weston asks, hopeful.

“As near as anyone can figure out? For several hours. Ashley said that she spoke to her mother after finding you with the truck...and your grandma said she’d dropped you off the day before,” Sarah explains, serious. There’s grief in her eyes. 

“Oh,” Weston nods.

Sarah’s quiet. 

So is Weston. It takes him a long time to say anything. But before he does, he gets up and rescues the truck. He sets it on its wheels, and fixes the back. He looks for dents. For damage. There isn’t any he can find. Weston puts it carefully back where he found it - with the other toys.

He comes back to the couch and sits near her again.

“Maybe when you said ‘be right back…’” he hedges. “That triggered something…”

“It seems like a good possibility,” Sarah nods.

“That maybe she said that to me, only then she didn’t come back, ever. And I was all by myself?” he asks.

“You were all by yourself,” Sarah confirms, sad. “How are you feeling about that?”

“I’ve been feeling that...all by myself...a lot. But especially this week. And especially today...when you had to leave with Fran.”

“It could be...that you’re having an anniversary reaction. We don’t know the dates of when this happened to you...but your body remembers it,” Sarah suggests.

“But I’ve been feeling it since I came  _ here _ . To camp,” Weston objects.

“And camp is a big change. A change that involved packing bags and a long car ride and a lot of things you’ve come to connect with moving, or at the very least, with instability in your life. It makes sense that you’d be feeling abandoned.”

“Especially if it happened around now?” Weston asks. “That she left me alone? With the truck?”

“Right,” Sarah nods.

Weston inches closer to her, not making eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw it. It just...happened. I know...I  _ did _ . And it’s on me to be accountable, it's just…”

“You were triggered, Weston. And you didn’t do anything wrong. You threw that truck, but you threw it away from us. You didn’t hurt anyone.” Sarah reassures. 

Weston relaxes. He keeps relaxing a little bit at a time until he’s looking at Sarah from her lap again. It feels like he can finally breathe. 

“Do you need to talk more about how you’re feeling?” Sarah asks.

“Can we pretend instead?” he asks, barely containing his hope. “Maybe...that you found me...before it had been too long?”

“Of course,” Sarah nods. “Do you want to pretend right now?”

Weston nods. “I’m gonna go outside this door and wait and you come and find me, okay?”

“Hold on,” Sarah says. “Let’s talk it through first. I want you to know how this would go. I want you to know that there is no way I’m leaving you anywhere for longer than a few seconds.”

“Okay,” Weston nods.

“So, when we’re pretending...I’m your nosey neighbor. And I’m this age that I am right now, so I’m a safe adult, and I pay attention to everything. So when I hear an older woman’s voice talking to a child right near my door, I go to investigate.”

“So, right when she walks away from me, you find me?” Weston asks.

“Yes. Right when she walks away from you, I’ll find you.” Sarah confirms.

“No more waiting entire days? Because I really fucking hate waiting…” he says, a little desperate.

“You’ll wait a few seconds, and then I’ll come and find you. Do you want the truck with you, or no?” Sarah asks.

Silently, Weston gets up and takes the truck again. He waits for Sarah to transfer back into her chair and then he walks out the door, waving a little as he closes it.

It helps that he can look in the window and see her. That he can hear her talking.

“Who is that I hear? Sounds like somebody talking to a baby. I’d better check to make sure things are okay…”

She’s coming over, just like she said. She’s opening the door.

“Hi. My name is Sarah. Why don’t you come inside and wait with me where it’s safe?” she says, extending her hand.

He takes it, not even waiting.

“You’re Weston, right?” she asks. (Under her breath, she adds: “I’d probably know that if I was as nosey as I think I’d be.”)

Weston nods and smiles a little.

“Great. You can wait here with me until your mom answers the door.” Sarah nods.

“You knocked?” Weston checks.

“I did knock, but no one answered, so you can stay here with me for as long as you need.” Sarah tells him.

“But really forever,” Weston insists.

“But really forever,” Sarah nods.

“Thank you…” he says. “For telling me that piece.” The truck is safe again on the shelf, and he’s safe again with his Mister.

“It’s your story, honey. It happened to you. You have a right to know it, as soon as you’re ready to,” Sarah tells him.

He sits close to her again. “I don’t know...how I feel about all this. It’s a lot. But it-- It makes more sense to have that piece.” He pauses. “The feelings are the same, but it’s different now?” he double checks.

“It is different now, because I will always come back for you as soon as I possibly can, honey. Because I love you so much, and I know how much you hate waiting.”

“I really do,” he nods. “Can I have another hug?”

“You can have a thousand other hugs,” Sarah tells him, hugging him hard. It’s deep and warm, and everything opposite of what he’s been feeling.

It doesn’t feel like empty halls at all.

It feels like he’s finally come home.


	47. Relax

After Mister tells him about the hallway feelings, it’s like his brain kind of clears a little bit. There’s space for him to take in other things. He’s found an old Rubik’s Cube which is like a square chunk of a puzzle that’s supposed to end up with a solid color on each side. 

Weston’s kinda terrible at it, but it does make a cool grinding noise as he twists it. Mister doesn’t even seem to mind. 

He looks at her. 

For the first time, it hits him: Mister looks exhausted.

She’s been going for so many hours now, and she looks like she could just use some time doing nothing. Weston knows what they say: rest is productive.

“I think we should do some relaxing shit,” Weston says.

“I’m with you, but I do want to make sure we have a plan going forward, so that you feel secure and checked in with enough.” Sarah says. It’s like her brain won’t shut off right now either. Like, she just keeps thinking of more and more stuff.

“So, we check in tonight, like usual, after lights out. And tomorrow, like usual in the morning. And maybe as needed in between? Boom. We’re done. Now let’s relax.”

“So what would help you is having things the same?” Sarah asks.

“Hi… Have you met me?” he asks.

“Yes, I have. And it was the best day of my life,” she grins.

“So, I’m trying to help us relax, will you go with me here?” Weston asks. “This is technically our break.”

“It is,” Sarah nods. She reaches over for the backpack on the back of her chair. Pulls out the tablet. “British Baking season two technical challenge?”

“Pies and tarts, oh my God, it’s so bad,” Weston moans, but he’s laughing. “Sandy’s pies do not look like that.”

“Her pies look beautiful,” Sarah confesses. “But I’d never be able to make homemade pastry.”

“Just those summertime cookies, right? That we made to celebrate my being done with summer school in eighth grade?” Weston asks.

“Aw, I forgot about those,” Mister grins. “They were so fun.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t do half as good as these guys either, but I just love, like, their tenacity,” Weston grins.

“Good word,” Sarah high fives him.

He gets up and remakes their coffee. Finds some chocolate in the refrigerator, labeled that it’s for anyone. So Weston takes a whole bar and brings it to Sarah.

“What is this?” she asks, grunting a little as she pretends to heft the chocolate.

“Found it in the fridge, it said it’s for anyone who wants some. There’s still like four there.”

“Nice. Oh, my God, this is espresso chocolate,” she beams at him. “This is how we relax.”

“It is, because it’s like you said… We have the dignity of risk and autonomy and shit.” He sips his vanilla coffee. Then he breaks off some chocolate and tries it. “Oh, holy shit.”

“Maybe just a square each?” Sarah suggests. “In honor of the trauma?”

“Yeah, I hear you...but it’s so fucking good. Do you think Roman put this here?” Weston asks.

“My money’s on Olivia, actually,” Sarah says, laughing as one of the contestants plates his tart crumbs -- all that’s left of his tart after he fought to get it out of the pan.

“This is true. I was gonna say, it could be Fran. She’s got all those brownie bars? For in case she freezes to death,” Weston passes along.

“What?” Sarah asks.

“Oh, you should ask her about it. Fucking terrifying,” Weston says, conversationally, sipping his coffee.

They’re quiet a while longer, until the challenge ends.

“So...are  _ you  _ okay?” Weston ventures. 

Sarah gives him a serious look, like she’s about to remind him that it’s not his job to take care of his own safe adult, and he hurries to explain:

“I’m asking as coworkers, okay? Not as your Stun. I can do that, because we can look out for each other as coworkers, right? Just...you were at the hospital...and I know you don’t like the hospital…”

“Urgent care,” Sarah qualifies, letting out a breath. “And you’re right, it’s not my favorite place to be,” she gives him a squeeze. “Thanks for remembering and checking in, coworker.”

“No problem, coworker,” he nods, drinking his coffee.

“Mister again,” she looks at him dead on. “I love you. And I will never leave you without checking in as soon as I possibly can.”

“I know,” he says.

“I will never leave you indefinitely. I’ll always come back,” she repeats.

“--as soon as you possibly can?” he double checks.

“As soon as I possibly can,” she confirms. She glances at her phone. “It looks like the bell is about to ring for dinner. Are you ready to head back, or do you need more time?”

“I need more  _ food _ ,” he says with a smile.

“Oh, I know that, for sure. You’re my Stun. You always need food, and I’ll always make sure you’ve got it.”

“Because you’re awesome,” he fills in.

“Because I’m your Mister and a safe adult, and food is a basic need,” she corrects gently. “Right?”

“See you later. You’ll be here?” Weston asks.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise, When we leave on Saturday? We leave together--”

“--And we’re buying a pineapple,” he fills in as they make their way outside.

“Oh, we are totally buying a pineapple. I’m going to find her the best ribbon...she’ll be perfect.”

“Just like her sisters,” Weston says fondly, thinking of all the other pineapples.

“Just like her sisters,” Sarah echoes, and they get closer and closer to the dining hall together.

And Weston feels like finally. 

Finally, he can do this.


	48. Pieces

Francesca doesn’t sleep super hard or super well. She keeps waking up every hour it seems like, and not really sleeping when she’s sleeping. At dinner time, Taylor disappears for a few minutes, and Rosa comes to stay with her.

“How are you feeling?” Rosa asks.

“Clumsy…” Fran mutters darkly. “I wasn’t even paying attention, that’s why I fell…”

“Falling is traumatic, right?” Rosa asks, and Fran does a double take. She’s never heard that before. Or maybe she has. She kinda remembers Levi grabbing her before she smashed her face on the dock last year. That was traumatic, and so was falling at school.

Rosa is Mariana’s person. Maybe she knows what it’s like to get threatened with jail…

“The last time I fell was at school last year in May. I lost my balance and tried to catch myself, but it turned out I caught myself on my mortal enemy. He told the playground aide that I attacked him, and she sent me to the principal...to Lena…” Fran says meaningfully.

“Oh God,” Rosa says, not even trying to hide her worry. “Honey, what happened?”

“She gave me detention for three days because of it...and when I got home, Stef… You know how she’s a cop?” Fran asks.

“I do,” Rosa nods.

“She said I would go to jail if I kept it up,” Fran admits. “That did feel like a trauma.”

“I’m sure it did,” Rosa tells her and her voice is understanding, exactly like Fran hoped it would be. “I’m so sorry that happened, and in case no one has told you? We don’t send kids to jail for falling.”

“What about being sassy after they fall?” Fran asks bluntly.

“You’re right to feel whatever you feel after a fall like that, Francesca,” Rosa says.

“My knee has this one scar on it from that day, see?” Fran shows her. “Because I fell on gravel basically, and I didn’t even get a bandaid until Mariana got home. She found me hiding in the closet, all shaking and stuff.”

“Because Stef threatened you with jail...and she’s a cop. So you… You were worried she was going to arrest you,” Rosa says. She doesn’t even ask.

“Terrified, yeah,” Fran nods.

Just then, Taylor comes back. She’s somehow carrying three trays of food. 

“Hey, is one of those for me?” Rosa jokes.

“Yes, but I’m not sure which one,” Taylor says. “We’ve got tacos, tater tots and corn, which is dinner tonight. Or we’ve got mac and cheese and soup, which was lunch this afternoon, but I seem to remember you’re a mac and cheese person, Francesca.”

“I am so a mac and cheese person!” Fran enthuses. “You can have the other taco and stuff, Rosa.”

“Thank you so much,” Rosa says.

“I was just showing Rosa my scar on my knee from when I fell last year. See?” Fran shows it again. “From the day Lena gave me detention and Stef threatened me with jail. All for falling.”

Taylor puts her tray aside and opens her arms. Fran hugs her, confused. “My knee is fine now…” Fran says, patting Taylor.

“I know, but that’s not fair to you at all. To be punished and threatened like that? I wish I could’ve known...and come to help you.” Taylor says seriously.

“I had the Avoiders,” Fran says. “Well, not exactly right then. But eventually.”

“So...you said Mariana came and fixed that for you? How long afterward was that?” Rosa wonders.

Fran shrugs making an “I don’t know” noise with the tone of her voice, so she can keep eating. She swallows. “Recess was after lunch, so maybe it was like 1:00. Mariana was home at like...dinner time? Maybe 6:00?”

“That’s such a long time to wait. Your mom didn’t even get you a bandaid at school?” Rosa asks.

Fran shrugs. “I was wearing black leggings, so maybe she couldn’t see… No, wait. I wore black ones the next day, so no one would notice. I had gray ones on that day, and my teal shirt. I remember because I never wore that outfit again.”

“That must’ve been so hard for you. No wonder today is, too,” Taylor says. 

Rosa finishes her dinner, and then says she’s got to get back to work. “But Fran, I want you to know something. I believe you, one hundred percent, about your Moms. They didn’t fool me at the workshop. They will never fool me.”

Fran blinks. “You’re, like, the only non-Avoider adult they can’t fool. Who actually talked to them.”

“I’ll always believe you, and you can always talk to me,” she writes something down on a piece of paper, like in the olden days. “Here’s my email address. You can email me once a week - more if there’s an emergency - and tell me how things are going...or just whatever you want me to know.”

“More safe people,” Fran says, staring at the paper after Rosa goes. Fran can’t even remember if she said anything back to Rosa or not. “I’m lucky.”

“Francesca? Having safe people in your life? That’s a basic need. Not something you happen to get that makes you lucky.” Taylor says.

“It is if you’re me,” Fran shrugs.

“How are you feeling? Is your head okay?” Taylor asks.

“My head is fine, but I feel worried! There’s only two hours ‘til the talent show…” Fran explains. “And I still don’t know if I’m going to even be able to sing.”

“Try this: ‘ _ When I dream on my own, I’m alone but I ain’t lonely… _ ’” Taylor sings. “Can you sing that?”

Fran doesn’t know the song, but she matches it perfectly.

“Great job. Now, does that hurt your head?” Taylor asks.

“A little bit more than usual,” Fran admits.

“But we figured out that you  _ can _ still sing, if you choose to, right? Even with your bump. So…” Taylor scoots closer to her when Fran pats the bed beside her. Taylor gets comfortable and puts an arm around Fran. Francesca leans against her. “What’s this really about?”

“What do you mean?” Fran asks.

“I mean...is it about singing perfectly?” Taylor asks, totally serious.

“Well, yeah. Ever since I was really little, my family has told everyone how good I am at singing. I could match pitch and stuff when I was four.” Fran says. “No offense.”

“None taken. That’s a big accomplishment,” Taylor says. “So...when you say you’re worried you can’t sing, you mean you’re worried you can’t sing perfectly?”

“I guess, yeah…” Fran nods.

“Can I ask you something?” Taylor wonders.

“Sure,” Fran says.

“What is it about this song that matters to you? What makes you want to sing it? What do you want to tell Camp Bravery when you sing it?”

“That I  _ am  _ brave?” Fran asks it like a question. “That even though people wanna keep me down, and keep me quiet, I won’t do that? I’ll speak out?”

“That’s an amazing message to tell us,” Taylor says, squeezing Fran’s shoulders, and Fran feels so proud. “Can you be brave and still make mistakes?”

“Um…” Fran hedges, thinking.

Taylor whispers in her ear, “Yes.”

“Yes?” Fran asks.

“Yes,” Taylor repeats. “When I was my bravest? I was also my most afraid. And I made all kinds of mistakes. Sometimes I almost made some huge ones, but I still was able to do what I needed to do for myself. To say what I came to say.”

“Do you think I can do that, too?” Fran asks, timid.

“I know you can. It takes a brave person to risk making mistakes in front of others. But if you use the song to share how you feel? You can’t be wrong.”

“Will you record me? I want The Avoiders to see me do this, and I want to be able to show Dia, too.”

“You want me to record you at the talent show?” Taylor asks.

“Yeah. Please,” Fran begs. “I’ll even give you my secret code, if you promise not to share it with anybody ever.”

“I promise not to share it with anybody ever. Do I have your consent to use your phone to do that? Record you singing at the talent show? So you can have the video to share with whoever you want?” Taylor asks.

“Yes,” Fran says. “Just to do that, though. Please don’t look at anything else on my phone.”

“I won’t,” Taylor promises. “We can hang out here, and you can give your phone to me before the talent show starts. Make sure you have it on the charger or something for now, though. We don’t want it running out of juice before your big debut.”

“Okay,” Fran says and plugs it in. By now, they’re already into LGD, and Taylor isn’t even mad they’re missing it. “I’m still nervous…” Fran admits.

“Hey. If you put your true feelings into your performance? You can never be wrong. Just be honest. Be you,” Taylor urges. 

“Because that’s safe to do here?” Fran checks.

“Totally safe to do here,” Taylor confirms. 


	49. Showtime

Francesca’s heart is pumping.

It’s officially time for camptivity - which means it’s officially time for the talent show. She didn’t even put any extra makeup on like she was planning, or change into her fancier clothes for this performance.

Taylor said it’s safe to be herself, so Fran’s not going to try to be a more perfect version of herself. Of course, it’s her choice to keep wearing Taylor’s bandana, because medical privacy is a thing. But otherwise, she’s just gonna wear her Don’t Hurry, Be Happy sloth shirt, her matching green Avoider bracelet, her Dobby socks and that’s it, basically. (She _ is _ wearing pants, too. Don’t worry.)

She’s practiced and practiced all week (except for today.) And really? It feels like she’s been practicing for years. 

And Fran’s learned that it’s okay if she’s not perfect.

Fran knows this in her mind, but she doesn’t know how it will feel if she actually makes a mistake during her song.

She’s given Taylor her phone, and The Living Room has gotten transformed into a performance area, with no stairs to even worry about, as usual. She sits through Rosa welcoming them. Through some campers in the older cabins saying angry poems about their feelings.

Through an impressive video performance of Corbin doing his sewing with some yarn. It’s of him putting the finishing touches on a walrus.

Jonah gets up and just talks to them all, from his heart. “I’m just winging it,” he says, and he shares all about what camp means to him. How much they all mean to him, and Fran starts to get teary. She missed hanging out with him today, and they only have one more day together.

Dia also sent a video from home of her art gallery, which is in her room at her house. It’s amazing. All the pieces have titles and different personalities because of the colors and stuff used. Fran is in awe.

Lexie and Giselle do their poem they wrote about cats. When Giselle forgets her line, Olivia’s there, whispering it for her, but Giselle mutters something quietly and not even into the microphone. Nico calls from the audience where he’s sitting right by Olivia, “Did you say,  _ “Cats, oh darn, they love some yarn?” _

Giselle nods, and they all do silent applause for her because that was the last line of the poem, and she was so scared to even do it.

Lexie and Giselle bow fast and go sit down.

Next are all the boys from Sunshine cabin. Koa turns on music. Fran squints, seeing them all dressed up with grey pointy things on their heads.

Fran doesn’t get it until they start singing  _ Baby Shark _ together. They just do Baby Shark (Nico), Mommy Shark (Sarah comes on with her very own shark fin) and Daddy Shark (Sylvan). Everybody else does the actions and sings along. (Or some just do the actions like Jesse and nobody makes him feel bad about it.)

Fran is so into the Sunshine boys cabin’s performance that she forgets that she’s up next until she hears her name:

“Up next we have Francesca, from the Sunshine girls cabin, singing a song for us,” Rosa introduces.

“You got this Fran!” Taylor calls out all loud. 

Fran’s face gets warm. Her bump hurts. She walks up carefully to the front of the room. There’s a chair just waiting there for her to sit on, and Sarah comes up to adjust her mic so it matches her height. “You ready?” she asks. (She’s lost her shark fin; it helps Fran take her seriously.) 

“I think so. I might want to say something first, is that okay?” she asks.

“Of course,” Sarah says.

Fran takes the microphone and clears her throat. “When I turned nine years old, my older sister took me to the movies with her. We saw Aladdin. I met the genie, and the magic carpet...and I also heard a song that has been my, like, favorite ever since…”

Fran bites her lip. “Today has been really hard for me. But I’m going to sing anyways, because I want you guys to know it’s okay to speak out. If something is happening to you? It’s okay to tell someone…” Fran’s voice gets all thick. She’s thinking of Jonah. Of Lexie with her million scars from surgery...and of herself and Mariana being hurt every single day at home.

She swallows and nods at Sarah to play her song. She can see Taylor nodding at her, the camera already aimed, and recording this whole time. Good.

Fran scoots to the front of her chair, making sure she’s doing choir posture. Feet flat on the floor. Back away from her chair. Head up. Hands down. 

She takes a deep breath as Princess Jasmine’s song “Speechless” starts to play. Fran knows it by heart but the notes are tricky. So she needs her voice to relax and cooperate with her if she’s going to sing this.

She thinks about the movie. Goes to that scene in her mind, and starts to sing:

_ “Here comes a wave _

_ Meant to wash me away _

_ A tide that is taking me under _

_ Swallowing sand _

_ Left with nothing to say _

_ My voice drowned out in the thunder,” _

Her voice is pretty much cooperating. She’s looking out in the audience, making them feel what she’s feeling. She’s thinking of Lena, forcing her to stand up and walk, of walking on eggshells around Stef for weeks, doing police rules around her.

_ “But I won't cry _

_ And I won't start to crumble _

_ Whenever they try _

_ To shut me or cut me down _

_ I won't be silenced _

_ You can't keep me quiet _

_ Won't tremble when you try it _

_ All I know is I won't go speechless,” _

Fran’s thinking about every time she’s been hurt and not allowed to show it. Her knee on the playground last year. Lena hitting her for talking back. She can’t actually tell everyone at camp that her mom hit her, but she can sing this song.

_ “'Cause I'll breathe _

_ When they try to suffocate me _

_ Don't you underestimate me _

_ 'Cause I know that I won't go speechless,” _

She holds her chin up. She looks into everybody’s faces that she can. Jonah’s. Weston’s. Lexie’s. Giselle’s. Sarah’s. Taylor’s. Rosa’s.

Weston’s nodding at her, and that makes her feel good. Encouraged. She swallows and keeps singing, even though the feelings in the song are getting tougher to manage.

_ “Written in stone _

_ Every rule, every word _

_ Centuries old and unbending _

_ Stay in your place _

_ Better seen and not heard _

_ But now that story is ending,” _

Fran’s angry now. Pissed off, even. She’s not allowed to say that - but she knows inside her that she’s allowed to feel it. She’s allowed to feel any feeling she has. She doesn’t need the Magic Carpet to hide things for her anymore. She’s thinking of all the rules she and Mari have had to live under. The ones that aren’t even clear. All of them just get made up by Moms whenever they feel like it.

She raises her chin and keeps singing:

_ “'Cause I _

_ I cannot start to crumble _

_ So come on and try _

_ Try to shut me and cut me down, _

_ “I won't be silenced _

_ You can't keep me quiet _

_ Won't tremble when you try it _

_ All I know is I won't go speechless _

_ Speechless _

_ “Let the storm in _

_ I cannot be broken _

_ No, I won't live unspoken _

_ 'Cause I know that I won't go speechless.” _

For the first time all song, Fran gets scared. She takes a deep breath. She’s thinking of all the lines coming up that take so much breath control. But then she thinks of her private one on one voice lessons with Sarah, where she said to take a breath wherever she needed to. (It’s the same thing Fran has learned from Kari in choir, but the rules for solo singing are different...at least Fran thought so. But this is camp, she guesses, where adapting is okay.)

She takes a huge deep breath, so she has enough air for all these high notes.

_ “Try to lock me in this cage _

_ I won't just lay me down and die--” _

(Oh, no… She missed “lay”. She was so flat. Dang…) 

She concentrates, knowing “wings” is coming up, and that’s an even higher note. She’s got to hit this one:

_ “--I will take these broken wings _

_ And watch me burn across the sky _

_ Hear the echoes saying I---” _

Fran holds out the note as long as she can. Then, she looks at Jonah, thinking of his ventilator, and takes a breath when she needs it. Then she goes back to holding the note again. She has enough air to keep going like that.

The rest of the song, she can just feel.

_ “Won't be silenced _

_ Though you want to see me tremble when you try it _

_ All I know is I won't go speechless _

_ Speechless,” _

Her voice is tensing up. Tears are all in her eyes. But she is going to finish this song. She holds her head up, and tries to breathe through her tears, just like the song says.

But unlike the song says, she  _ is _ allowed to cry, because this is camp. So she lets the tears fall.

And she can hear Taylor, and Sarah and even Rosa singing from the audience with her, to help her across the finish line of this song.

_ 'Cause I'll breathe _

_ When they try to suffocate me _

_ Don't you underestimate me _

_ 'Cause I know that I won't go speechless _

_ All I know is I won't go speechless _

_ Speechless…” _

Fran gasps out the last word, and then she can’t stop crying.

She feels arms around her.

Nico. Jonah. Jesse. Lexie. Giselle. They’re all hugging her.

“You did it, Fran,” Jonah says.

She looks up at him and smiles through her tears.


	50. Ache

By the time Francesca gets to the canteen after the talent show, her head is aching. Nico buys her another strawberry shortcake ice cream bar and keeps saying how she “won” the talent show - even though nobody wins. There are no prizes, just the pride of a job well done.

“You won, Fran! You actually won the talent show!” Nico says for the billionth time.

“No, I didn’t,” Fran says quietly.

“Yes, you did! You even have a winner’s ice cream bar, see?” Nico says.

“I said thank you already,” she points out, licking it, “but it still doesn’t make me a winner. Please stop saying that.”

“But you are--” Nico starts.

“Hey. Nico. If Fran says stop doing something? You need to stop. Remember consent?” Weston asks.

“But that’s just for touching,” Nico says.

“No, it’s not,” Fran argues. “It’s for anything about another person. If you do something that makes another person uncomfortable, that person gets to say no if they want to.”

She winces.

“You okay?” Weston asks.

“I just wanna put this ice cream on my head…” Fran moans.

“Let me go to the nurse and get you another ice pack,” Weston says and takes off.

“Where is he--” Pablo asks.

“He’s just getting me another ice pack,” Fran fills in.

“Pablo, do you think I have to stop saying Fran won the talent show?” Nico asks.

“Did Francesca ask you to?” Pablo asks.

“Yes.”

“Then you listen to her. You listen to the person who says no. You don’t check with another person first. That’s not respectful.” Pablo tells Nico.

“I’m sorry, Fran,” Nico says. “Sorry for making you uncomfortable and not listening to you when you said no.”

“Thanks…” Fran says, but every word makes her head hurt.

Luckily, Weston comes back then, running over with an ice pack wrapped in a towel. He gives it to her. “You wanna call it a night, don’t you?” he asks.

“Kinda…” Fran admits, even though there’s only one more day of camp after this, and she doesn’t want to give up time she could be spending with her friends.

“It’s okay,” Jonah encourages her. “You did great. Go rest and see how you feel tomorrow. You want a ride back to the cabins?”

“I’ll go with you guys,” Weston jumps up.

They don’t talk as Jonah makes his way down the sidewalk. When he parks in front of her cabin door, Fran refuses to look at the bench.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Weston asks.

“I got her,” Taylor says breathlessly, running up to meet them.

Francesca finally feels like she can relax. If Taylor’s here, she doesn’t have to worry at all. She goes inside and Taylor doesn’t even say to change her clothes or brush her teeth, she just brings Fran back to her bed and helps her take her shoes off and sits with her in the almost dark while Fran holds her ice in place.

“I’m gonna miss the smell here,” Fran sighs.

“It has a smell?” Taylor asks quietly.

“Well, yeah. Wood and sunscreen and fresh air and everything,” Fran lists. “Oh no, I didn’t write back to Pearl and Levi.”

“Do you want my help?” Taylor asks and Fran agrees.

Once Fran has pointed Taylor in the direction of her letter writing supplies, she starts the letter and pauses a lot so Taylor can copy down what she’s saying:

_Thursday, June 30, 2022:_

_Dear Pearl and Levi,_

_You probably won’t get this until I’m home, but I have such big news. Some of it is bad, and some of it is good. I will give you the bad news first, since it happened first:_

_I fell._

_Boo, right?_

_But one of my counselors brought me to the Urgent Care place to get checked, and they said I’m okay as long as I ice and rest and did that for hours, and I am doing that again. I have a big bump. (Oops, I almost forgot to say it’s on my head.) It hurts. And it makes me feel different and scared and so much trauma. But they told me at camp that they don’t send kids to jail for falling, so that’s good news._

_Oh yeah. Good news._

_So, tonight was our camp talent show, and I was so worried I was not going to be able to sing perfectly but my favorite counselor, Taylor, who is helping me write this letter, said I don’t have to be perfect, just share my feelings._

_I made two mistakes in the song, but I didn’t stop. And I also didn’t stop myself from having feelings. Oh, the song I sang was Speechless from Aladdin - the live action one - not the super old cartoon from the 90s. You probably know that one, right Pearl?_

_Anyways, I have to go. I love you guys a lot and I miss you and I hope Gateway calls you really soon to say you can come to California to live forever._

_I can’t wait._

_Love,_

_Fran_

Taylor folds the letter and addresses it and stamps it. And by the time all that is done? Fran can’t keep her eyes open anymore. She falls asleep even before SGD, but no one yells at her or makes her wake up 

They all just let her sleep.


	51. Lane

When Fran goes inside with Taylor - when Weston knows she’s safe - it hits him. He’s not really okay. He backtracks to where he last saw Sarah, near the canteen, and whispers to her:

“Hey… I’m feeling a little shaky…”

“Yeah?” she asks, totally dialed into him. “Well, let’s go early. I’ll let everyone know.”

“Okay,” he nods, breathing a sigh of relief.

When they finally get back to the lounge, he stops by the bathroom. Coming back out, he can see Sarah’s got hot chocolate for both of them and a big bag of Chex Mix by the couch.

“Hey,” she greets him warmly. “Wanna sit down?”

Weston joins her, taking a giant handful of Chex Mix.

“I was wondering if the talent show might be difficult…” she ventures after a pause.

“Yeah. It is,” he nods. “I mean, it was.”

Sarah just waits. She’s so good at just waiting. At letting him take his time to come to her whenever he’s ready. To say whatever he needs to say.

“I remember...you never let me use the gun....” he ventures.

“The gun? Oh, you’re thinking of Duck Hunt? The old Nintendo game, right? I never let anybody use the gun, because it was broken,” Sarah says. 

“I never believed you,” Weston tells her.

“Well, I don’t lie to you, do I?” Sarah asks rhetorically.

Weston considers this. “But you weren’t my Mister then…”

“But I was still a safe adult,” Sarah points out.

“A safe adult without a PS3,” Weston points out. “We had to all play the terrible Center video games with such bad graphics…”

“You got really good at Super Mario Brothers,” Sarah encourages. 

“A four year old could get good at that,” Weston scoffs. “Sorry. I’m feeling mean.”

“Mean might be covering for what?” Sarah asks.

“Un-confident,” Weston admits.

“So maybe you’re feeling...uncertain?” Sarah ventures. “Do you want to follow that back anymore? Or not?”

Weston shakes his head. The panic attack he’d had as a ten year old was bad enough. There had been a talent show at The Center, and he had lost it. It wasn’t even the going on stage. It was...that it happened at all.

Sarah had gotten him Chex Mix and hot chocolate then, too. And they had played video games in a quiet corner, away from the talent show. She never talked about it to him, or encouraged him to go back and try again. She respected his limit.

He shifts on the couch. Almost against his will, the story starts coming out. The real story. What really happened to make him react how he had in the first place at ten.

“It was, like, second grade. There was some winter program at my school. There was Kool-Aid and cookies after and I, like, gorged myself on everything. Then, I couldn’t make it to the bathroom, so…”

“So...you might have been scared about Ashley and Paul’s reactions…” Sarah offers.

“Yeah, I was,” Weston nods. 

“You can share more if you want. I want to listen to whatever you have to say,” Sarah tells him. 

Weston takes his time, thinking back. “Paul, he… I don’t remember… I just remember that suddenly I was in the bathroom at school. In a stall. And he was. And he had the whole Lost and Found box in there. He said I was too big to piss myself--” 

“Hey, Stun?” Mister asks. “I’m so sorry to interrupt. I just want you to know, honey, that accidents happen to everybody. There’s no age limit. And it’s not your fault. He was wrong about that.”

Weston keeps talking. If he doesn’t get it all out now, he might stop for good. “--and like…he found this crappy pair of sweats and baby underwear with Spiderman on them. I didn’t wanna wear them, but he, like, made me.”

“He made you?” Sarah asks, concerned. 

“Yeah, you know... He took my pants and my boxers off me and put those on,” Weston explains, not looking at her.

“How did you feel when he did that?” Sarah asks.

“Mad. But when I fought him and shit, he said not to embarrass him, or he’d make my life a living hell. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. He didn’t actually hurt me,” Weston says, distant.

“Did he respect your boundaries?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Weston says.

“Did you feel comfortable with him in that small space with you? Or with the clothes he chose? Or any of the way things happened?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Weston says.

“He didn’t respect your no. He touched you without permission, honey. He pulled your clothes off you against your will and threatened you when you fought back. That means he did hurt you. And it makes so much sense that it’s such a big deal. Then, and when you were ten, and now.”

“‘Cause now any program-type thing. Like a talent show. Anything with little kids and music? It puts me on edge.”

“Your body remembers, and that’s okay. That makes sense.” Sarah tells him.

“Do we have time to pretend...like, if it were you instead of Paul? How you would have done it?”

“Always, honey. We have so much time,” Sarah reassures him.

Weston gets comfortable near her, leaning on her arm. “Okay, go.”

“So, if you were seven, and we were out and about and you had just been in your winter program, I’d be sure to tell you, “I’m so proud of you, Weston! You did such a good job!”

“Oh,” Weston answers.

“And then, if you couldn’t make it to the bathroom after cookies and Kool-Aid, I’d give you my jacket to wrap around yourself, and we’d leave to go back to our safe house. Where you could change into your own clothes when you felt comfortable.”

“But it was winter. Wouldn’t you be cold without a jacket?” Weston asks, concerned.

“Well, I’d give you my sweater, then. You know how I like to wear those sweaters just for an extra layer in the winter. That way, I’d still be warm enough, and you’d still be protected.”

“Thank you,” Weston answers. “You’re always nice to me,” he observes after a pause.

“Safe adults treat people in their lives with kindness,” Sarah explains. “And besides that, you are my Stun, who I love so very much.”

It’s quiet and cozy, and Weston just sits there leaning against his Mister. It’s late, but it’s fine. They really do have all the time they need, “You’re really back?” he asks, giving her arm a gentle poke. “Like...you’re not leaving?”

“I was about to ask how those baby feelings are,” Sarah asks gently. “Yes, I’m really back. I’m not leaving. When we leave Saturday morning...to get our pineapple…” 

“You’re smiling, I can tell,” he points out.

“I am. And I can hear your smile, too. Your happiness makes me happy. When we leave to get our pineapple? We’re leaving together.”

“You and me?” Weston checks.

“You and me,” Mister confirms.

And it’s nothing like when he was ten. Because this time, he believes her every word.


	52. Listen

“Do we have time to talk about one other thing?” Weston asks, after a long pause.

“Honey, we have time to talk about as many other things as you need to,” Sarah tells him.

“Nico…” he breathes. “He just...wasn’t respecting Fran’s boundaries at all. She kept telling him to stop saying what he said. He wouldn’t. I told him to stop, and he said consent’s just for touching. And I was getting Fran ice, but I definitely heard Nico checking with Pablo to see if he had to, like, respect Fran.”

“I’m so sorry, Weston,” Sarah apologizes, giving him a squeeze. “That sounds so overwhelming on top of what you’re already dealing with.”

Weston’s hugging her back, hard. “I know.”

“Do you also know I love you?” she checks.

“You do? Still?” Weston wonders.

“I do, always,” Sarah nods. “Would you like to slow down and unpack this anymore? Or did you just need me to hear you?”

“Well… What if I need both?” Weston asks.

“That would be one-hundred percent okay. So, you said Nico wasn’t respecting Fran’s boundaries at all. Did that bring up anything in you?”

“Yeah,” Weston says softly. “Paul...not respecting me at all.”

“That makes a lot of sense. When somebody doesn’t respect your no, that’s hard to deal with, isn’t it? Because it makes you think of when Paul hurt you.”

“Right.” Weston nods.

“So…” Sarah begins again. “I heard you say that Fran kept telling Nico to stop saying what he said, but Nico wouldn’t.”

“Yeah...and it’s like… How many times do we have to say no before we’re listened to, you know? And I know that Nico saying a thing is not the same thing, but like… It feels the same.”

Weston leans against Sarah again, staring out at the lounge. It’s something that’s taken a long time for him to feel comfortable doing. But Sarah let him come to her. She never rushed him.

“Of course it does,” Sarah says, sympathetic. “It feels the same because you know what it’s like to say no and have someone not stop.”

“The pattern thing again…” Weston offers.

“Right,” Sarah praises him. “And I hear you identifying with Fran here. You said, “How many times do we have to say no before we’re listened to?” That tells me you might be feeling younger. How old?” 

“Thirteen,” Weston admits.

If Sarah’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. “So, close to Fran’s age, then. Do you want to say more about thirteen?”

“No,” Weston shakes his head. (She doesn’t need to ever know about what he had to do at thirteen.)

“Okay. I respect your boundary. Thank you for telling me,” She pauses a minute and then keeps going: “Weston?”

He looks at her. 

“I know you feel thirteen, honey, and that’s okay. That makes sense. I just want you to know also that you’re an adult. And I heard that you protected Fran so beautifully by reminding Nico of consent and getting her more ice when she was in pain.”

“It’s just camp counselor stuff,” he frowns, fidgeting.

“Maybe, but it’s also stuff that you’ve worked really hard to learn, and to accept. And now you’re able to do it for others. To protect other children. That’s empathy. That’s a big deal.”

“You forgot about what he told Pablo,” Weston reminds her, so uncomfortable with her praise.

“Right. You said even though you were leaving, you could hear Nico checking with Pablo to see if he had to respect Fran?” Sarah comments seriously.

“Yeah,” Weston nods.

“So, Nico didn’t take your word again,” Sarah points out.

“No, he didn’t respect  _ Fran _ ,” Weston insists, a little intense. “He checked with another dude to see if he had to respect a girl. That’s fucked up.”

“It is,” Sarah confirms. As a woman, it doesn’t make us feel we’re worth much if a man does something like that.”

“And he has a disability,” Weston points out. “He should know how it feels to be treated like shit!” His eyes flicker to Sarah’s, apologetic. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m not saying he deserves to be treated like-- Or that you do, just--”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. Benefit of the doubt, remember? Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like you were trying to say that because Nico’s disabled, he might know better than to treat another disabled person with disrespect?”

“Yeah, something like that…” Weston manages.

“Can I hug you? You seem like you’re still really worried, and I want you to know it’s okay.”

“I’d like a hug,” Weston whispers.

So she does. And she always makes this noise when she hugs him. It’s weirdly specific to her - a happy groan - so that he knows she’s happy to hug him. Also, it kind of sounds like she’s letting him know how hard she’s squeezing? It’s strange, but nice.

She holds onto him, and he holds on back. They count to twenty.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad,” Sarah reassures, patting his back.

“You keep saying Nico didn’t take my word again…” Weston begins.

“I do. How do you feel about that?” Sarah wonders.

Weston can feel every muscle in his body tense. He swallows his answer.

“Do you need me to let go?” Sarah checks.

He shakes his head.

“Honest and authentic, remember? Those are the only two rules about being Mister and Stun. We’re as honest and authentic as we can possibly be.”

“I hate it,” he croaks. “That you keep telling me Nico didn’t take my word for it…”

“You hate it,” she says, like it surprises and concerns her. “I’m glad you told me.”

“I hate it because it’s fucking true,” Weston breathes. “Nobody fucking listens to me…”

“You hate it because it’s fucking true?” she whispers. “And nobody fucking listens to you. I’m so sorry about that. I’ve got you. It’s your Mister. It’s you and me. And I will always listen to you when you say no. Or stop. Or otherwise withhold consent.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter…” Weston manages. Tears are running down his face, but he doesn’t mind because she can’t see them.

“Tell me, Stun. Why doesn’t it matter?” Mister’s still holding him somehow so gently and tight all at once.

“Because it already happened,” he whispers.

“What already happened?” Sarah asks.

“No one listened to me,” he admits. “They just did whatever, and it didn’t matter.  _ I _ didn’t matter.”

“You feel  _ what _ about that?” Sarah checks. “Can you find a feeling?”

“Like I’m in a hole, and I can’t get out…” Weston admits. “Because if little kids are acting like this… Then we’re screwed, right?” He pulls back to look at Sarah.

With his consent, she holds his face between her hands. “We are not screwed. I think you need to hear what Pablo told Nico, honey. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Weston says, settling against her again.

“Pablo told Nico that if Fran already asked him to stop? He needed to listen to her. He needed to listen to the person who said no. Stop when they say stop. He said don’t check with another person first, because that’s not respectful.” Sarah explains, stroking Weston’s hair gently.

“Then what? Did he listen?” Weston checks.

“Then he apologized to Fran, and he did stop. He should have stopped the first time she asked him to, though. And he should have definitely gotten the message when you reminded him about consent. You’re a safe adult and a counselor here. Your words matter.”

“Even kids’ words matter, though,” Weston points out. “Not just adults’. Kids deserve to be listened to. Like Fran.”

“And like you,” Sarah says, still touching him tenderly. She stifles a yawn but he still hears it - feels it.

“You gotta go to bed, So do I. It’s been an exhausting fucking day,” Weston sighs.

“Do you hear me, though? You always deserved to be listened to, Weston. At every age, okay? You needed safe adults. And especially if you said no. No one has the right to do to you what Paul did, okay? No matter what?”

“Is there always a safe way?” Weston asks.

“There’s always a safe way. That’s right,” she nods. “I love you so much. Thank you for all your hard work today at trusting me and talking to me. I know it was hard.”

“It was,” he nods. “But we are going home together? And you’re not going to leave again before that?”

“Right,” Sarah says. “We’re leaving together. You’re stuck with me forever.”

She’s back in her chair, and Weston clears the hot chocolate travel mugs and washes them quickly while Sarah finds the chip clip for the Chex Mix and puts it back.

Then, just like she’s promised?

They leave together.

And things aren’t okay...but they don’t have to be. Because they have each other.


	53. Sunshine

Weston’s up before any of the rest of the counselors Friday morning. Only one more day here, and then it’s pineapple-picking time with Mister. He’s excited, but he’s also on alert. He fucking hates transitions, even the ones he’s been told are totally safe.

He’s ready and loitering outside Sarah’s cabin when she comes out. She jumps, seeing him there and he jumps, too.

With one hand to her chest, she reaches for Weston’s with the other. “I’m sorry. I just...didn’t expect you to be out here. You can knock, you know? It’s okay to do…”

“I know,” he nods, “But the kids are sleeping and I know hearing a bunch of knocking on the door can’t feel super safe…”

“You’re so considerate,” she compliments him.

They get to the staff lounge and he makes their coffee. Sarah grabs them peanut butter granola bars, just to tide them over ‘til breakfast.

“You okay?” she asks when they’re settled on the couch. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It wasn’t on purpose...and I was already kinda on edge. Half good, half bad,” Weston offers, taking a bite of his granola bar. “Oh! Shit, guess what? Egg and cheese biscuits and hashbrowns this morning.”

“Oh my God, that sounds amazing,” Sarah enthuses. “You know how much I love a good biscuit…”

“And you know how much I love cheese,” Weston jokes, but it’s true, he does.

“Half good, half bad on-edge?” she checks.

“Well, yeah, we almost get to go grocery shopping, but it’s also another transition, and I’m still dealing with the first one...and the one from yesterday…”

Sarah just listens.

“It’s like...I need time. Time to let my feelings and emotions and whatever catch up to what’s happening. It helps knowing the piece from when I was a baby. But that just means I have context. The feelings are still there. The trauma…”

“That makes so much sense. Listen. I want you to have the best, safest last day you can. So how can we do that?”

“Okay, number one: Don’t go anywhere? Please? Without telling me first? And second? I really want to give my nature kids a chance to go on another walk before the week’s up. They were all so into it. Do you think we could clear something with Mr. Santanos?”

“First. I will not go anywhere without letting you know. And second, I think that’s a great idea. Let’s stop by the offices before the wake up bell and ask.”

Weston chugs the rest of his hazelnut coffee and downs the last of his granola bar. “First breakfast is in the books,” he announces. “Second breakfast is on standby in the dining hall.” Weston brushes off his hands and stands up.

“Hold on. We don’t have to be in a rush,” Sarah says. “Sit down here. If you want. Get a hug and a kiss, if you want?”

“Ooh, are they available?” Weston asks.

“They are always available, Stun,” Mister grins.

“Okay. I’ll take...one...forehead kiss...and one tight hug…” Weston decides.

Sarah is super predictable, doing exactly what Weston asks. No more, no less.

“And… Wait. Is physical affection available from you?” Mister checks.

“Some,” he allows.

“Okay. I’ll have whatever your daily special is. (That means whatever you’re comfortable with.)”

He leans into her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I liked your bat drawing,” he says softly. “Now that I know it wasn’t a goodbye.”

“It wasn’t a goodbye. Bats mean you and me. Forever,” Sarah lays her head on Weston’s head.

“Even unexpected bats?” Weston checks softly.

“Especially those,” Sarah nods.

Finally, they’re ready to go by the offices.

“What do I say, though?” he asks. “I never know what to say…”

“Okay,” Sarah muses, thinking. “Try this:  _ “I’d like to take the kids on a nature walk.” _

“I’d like to take the kids on a nature walk,” he repeats. He says it over and over. Then he checks beside him. “You’ll stay?”

“I’m staying right here.” They go into the offices and Sarah greets Rosa. “Is Mr. Santanos in?” she asks.

“He certainly is,” Mr. Santanos himself stands there, with a cup of fancy coffee in hand. “What can I do for you, Jensens?”

Sarah nods at Weston.

Oh, right.

“I’d like to take the kids on a nature walk,” he says.

“I  _ have _ gotten notes from Corbin every day. And a few from Jesse. And even one from Fran,” Mr. Santanos ventures with a smile, gesturing to a pile of mail on the edge of his desk. “They really enjoyed their time with you. And I appreciate that you’re asking first this time.”

Mr. Santanos walks over to the counters and finds a map of Camp Bravery. “You stick to this trail,” he points to the one Weston’s already familiar with. “And...what time were you planning on going?”

“Maybe 5:00?” he asks.

“Make it 4:30 if you can, that way, if you run into trouble, chances are you’ll still be able to get back with the kids by dinner time, and by the time Corbin’s mom arrives to pick him up.” 

“4:30 then,” Weston says, saying it out loud as he writes it on his hand. “4:30 - nature walk.”

“Here, let me type this out for you, so that way you can wash your hand and not be down any info,” Mr. Santanos jokes. Weston smiles too, cautiously. “There you go. I did add one thing: Walkie-talkie. Before you go? I’d like you to swing by the office for one of these,” Mr. Santanos says, gesturing to a walkie-talkie that looks a thousand years old. 

“But I have my phone,” Weston points out.

“Yeah, but cell service is spotty out there. You know how to use this?” Mr. Santanos asks.

“Pretty sure you just hold the button down and talk,” Weston says.

“Great, so...stop by the office before you go. Rosa or I will give you a walkie talkie, and you’ll be free to go.” Mr. Santanos explains.

“So… Walkie-talkie. Trail. Kids who are cleared to go, no extras. Departure time and time to be back. Thanks,” Weston says, after scanning the paper.

“Hey, thank  _ you _ . For taking feedback,” Mr. Santanos says. “That’s the mark of character growth. How are you two doing? Need more time to figure stuff out?”

“I think we’re okay,” Weston nods.

“If we need more, we’ll check in again,” Sarah promises.

“Sounds good,” Mr. Santanos says. “See you at breakfast. Biscuit sandwiches.”

“I’m ready,” Weston says.

They step out into the sunlight together. Just in time to hear the wake up bell ring.

\--

The bell is like a gong in Francesca’s head. Her bump feels like Pinnochio’s nose, it just keeps growing. And it definitely hurts. She’s getting ready to creep out of bed and hang out awkwardly outside of the counselors curtain when Taylor is there.

“Hey…” she greets. “How are you feeling?”

Fran opens her arms and Taylor hugs her. “I think I need ice and medicine, just so it doesn’t get awfuller.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get you out of here before Brighton starts their wakeup song,” Taylor says.

“I hate that bench,” Fran mutters, as they pass it. “And I hate this sidewalk.”

“They caused a lot of pain, didn’t they?” Taylor says, sympathetic. 

“Yes,” Fran grumbles.

“Hey Fran.”

She squints in the sun til she can just make out Weston and Sarah coming back to the cabins. Fran is a tiny bit jealous. Sarah probably lets Weston talk about his real parents all he wants and doesn’t slap him for it.

“Hey,” she says.

“Nature walk for the nature-walkers. 4:30 today, Pass it on,” he grins.

It’s not until they’re coming back from the nurse and Fran’s had ibuprofen and new ice that her brain catches up with his words.

“All the other nature-walkers are boys. Weston’s in their cabin. Why does he want me to pass it on?”

“Maybe because he wants you to share the good news?” Taylor says.

Back in the cabin Lexie is in the shower and Brighton is singing, “Splish, Splash I Was Taking a Bath” to make her laugh. Fran gets dressed slowly, and then she almost starts crying again.

“What’s wrong?” Giselle asks, coming to sit on Dia’s bed.

“I don’t want to do my hair, My head hurts…” Fran manages.

Giselle gets up and the next thing Fran knows, she is bringing Taylor back by the hand. “Fran doesn’t want to do her hair because her head hurts. You always help her, right? So you can tell her she doesn’t have to.”

“You bet,” Taylor says. “Hang on one second.” 

She disappears and comes back with a bright yellow bandana. It reminds her of the sunshine like their cabin name, and of Jesus. It kind of makes her look like a bee because she has her black shirt with a Dumbledore quote on the front.

“Should we just replace your bandana with a fresh one?” Taylor asks.

The red one is almost falling off, so Fran takes it off all the way.

Taylor waits for consent before gently tying the new bandana around her head. And then they walk to breakfast early, so Fran can be inside when the bell rings again.

There’s egg and cheese biscuits and hashbrowns for breakfast. She asks for hot chocolate and invites Jesse to sit next to her. “Nature walk for the Nature Walkers. 4:30 today. Pass it on,” she whispers in his ear

Jesse smiles a little, and takes a big bite of his biscuit sandwich.

They’re perfect - cheesy and biscuity - without too much egg. Fran could basically live on these.

\--

Fran doesn’t feel like horseback riding, but it’s okay because Dia arrives then. They just hang out in the grass. Dia keeps touching Fran’s bandana.

“That’s another one of Taylor’s. I like yours. How it’s always the same.” Fran says.

Dia taps Fran’s again.

“My bump still hurts. Guess what? This time, I tinkled before we came here, so I wouldn’t have to go back by the evil bench.”

Olivia’s nearby for when Dia spells, “ _ Once upon a time, there was an evil bench…” _

The story makes Fran smile.

Corbin and Jesse join them, too, and Fran watches when Jesse hands Corbin a folded up piece of paper. It falls into the grass.

“Do you want me to read that?” Weston asks him.

Corbin says yes.

Fran can’t hear when Weston reads because he keeps his voice to a whisper, but she can tell from Jesse’s eye contact that he’s passing on the nature walk info to Corbin.

Corbin is up hugging Weston and repeating  _ “We are the nature walkers!” _

Nobody has to ride horses if they don’t want to, but Brighton does take Fran around to all the horses to say goodbye.

\--

“For Arts and Crafts today,” Olivia tells Fran and Dia, “We’re going to be doing a kind of cool project. But Fran, I wanted to give you a heads up because I remember it was something you were nervous about.”

“What?” Fran asks. 

Dia holds on tight to Fran’s hand. 

“Well, we’re going to take a cabin picture. Just for whoever wants to be in it. And then in Arts and Crafts, everybody has a frame and you all get to paint your own. Dia, I wanted to be sure you knew ahead of time because it’s a little different.”

Olivia sits down with them and explains everything really well. She tells them that the picture will go in their frames, and that way all of them will be able to have a picture of their cabinmates and counselors once they go home. To keep forever. But to do that, first, they need to take the picture.”

This time, Fran does consent. Dia needs a little time to adjust to the idea and so she and Fran just sit in the Arts and Crafts room, and Dia colors for a while until she’s ready. Then they go out together.

“I’ll stand by you, okay?” Fran tells Dia. 

Dia hums in agreement.

“Ooh! Can _ I _ stand by you, Fran?” Taylor asks, all excited.

Fran laughs. “Yes! Come on!”

Taylor poses on the other side of Fran and it’s the most perfect way her life has ever been. Jonah’s even in front of her. She’s surrounded by her best friends and safest people.

They take the picture under the camp sign and then it’s off to decorate their frames. Taylor makes sure Fran has ice as she needs it and says they’ll go by the nurse before lunch for more ibuprofen.

“I have an idea,” Fran whispers to Dia.

“Idea,” Dia breathes. 

It surprises her when Dia speaks with her mouth, but Fran remembers Levi and Jesse and Mari and all kinds of people who can sometimes speak and sometimes not. She doesn’t make it a big deal.

“Yeah, so this is my idea. If you want, what if I paint your frame, so when you see it you can think of me and--”

She doesn’t even get a chance to finish because Dia takes Fran’s frame and puts it in front of herself.

“--and you want to paint mine? So I can think of you?” Fran asks, holding up her hands.

Dia picks yes.

And Fran loses herself in making the frame perfect for Dia. She paints the bottom green like grass. The top blue like sky, and the sides yellow, like their sunshine cabins.

“What do you...think?” Fran trails off. She’s so stunned by what Dia’s doing, flicking paint of her brushes onto the frame so it looks spackled. Colorful drips are everywhere, and Fran’s glad the glass is not inside it yet. Dia’s paint is everywhere.

And it’s beautiful.

“I love it,” Fran tells her.

Dia hugs her tight. The message is clear enough.

“And I love you, too,” Fran adds.


	54. Conversations

For lunch, it's a baked potato bar, which means baked potatoes with all the toppings ever. Fran picks cheese, sour cream and bacon bits. She also has a peanut butter sandwich, because she doesn’t want chili.

They do their cabin cheers one last time. It’s weird to think that this is her last lunch ever at camp. But Fran doesn’t want to think about that, so she thinks about something else.

It’s a little weird being back here at this time in the day. Yesterday, she missed everything from horseback riding to the whole rest of the day, basically, because she was resting. Now she’s back doing stuff, and her head feels okay.

Back at the cabin for rest time, Fran finds two letters on her pillow! She looks at them carefully: One from Jesus and one from Dominique!

She tears open Jesus’s first:

_Wednesday_

_Hey Francesca,_

_I miss you so much. I hope you are having the best time at camp. What is your favorite part? Dudley and I are so stoked to come tonight and see you. Mari and Dominique are, too. We can probably get Pearl and Levi to be allowed to come too so you can see them. Have so much fun and don’t worry about us here. We’re just hanging out. Hey, what kind of cookies should I bring at the end of the week when we pick you up?_

_Love,_ _  
_ _Jesus_

\--

It takes Fran a minute to think back. If Jesus sent this on Wednesday, that means he was excited to give his consent talk. And Fran did get to see Jesus, and Dudley, Mari and Dominique and even Pearl and Levi.

She gets a pen and writes back:

_Friday July 1, 2022_

_Dear Jesus,_

_It was so fun seeing you guys on Wednesday night. Thank you for coming and speaking to my camp. My favorite part of camp is just hanging out and talking to my friends or the counselors when nothing else is going on. Is that weird?_

_One not fun thing is, I fell. Hard. It was yesterday and I hit my head. But Sarah (my counselor) took me to the urgent care and I am perfectly fine. I have a big bump but I also have lots of care and ice and Ibuprofen and I’m allowed to rest whenever I need to, so don’t worry. You can tell the other Avoiders but not Moms, please. I am hoping the bump will shrink by the time I see them._

_(Also, I STILL sang in the talent show last night, Mariana! With accommodations! You would be so proud of me!)_

_I think you should bring whatever kind of cookies you are making because they are all good. Wait. You are picking me up from camp? Yay! I was feeling bad because I thought Moms were._

_I love you!_

_P.S. I asked Olivia how to spell Ibuprofen and accommodations._

_Love,_

_Fran_

\--

“Hey…” Fran asks when Taylor comes to check on her. “Do you think you could, like, scan this and email it to my brother? I don’t want him and my sister to come tomorrow and get a rude surprise that I have this ginormous bump… If I mail it, it will take two days, and I’ll already be home…”

“I’ll do it right now. If I hand it off to Rosa in the office, is that okay? If she happens to see what you wrote? She handles the email addresses and stuff.” Taylor explains.

“Yeah, I trust Rosa. She knows us really well,” Fran explains not wanting to talk too much about Mari when she’s not here. “Then, can I have the letter back to actually mail too?”

“Sure,” Taylor smiles. “Why don’t you come with me and we can get you some more ibuprofen on the way?”

Fran watches Rosa scan and email her letter to Jesus and even sees a response right away coming back from Jesus.

_Thanks for the heads-up Fran. Love you. So sorry you got hurt, but glad you’re being taken care of. Love, Jesus_

Next, she gets the letter back and puts it in an envelope and addresses and stamps it right there in the office. She can even officially mail it from there.

“Hey, Francesca,” Mr. Santanos calls out. He’s just like a teacher at her school. He has teacher-energy. But like...a cool teacher...one all the kids like. “Great job on the song last night. How’s your head feeling?”

“Thanks… It’s feeling okay. We’re going for more ibuprofen and ice after this.” Fran tells him.

“Yeah? Awesome job on the pain management. I like it. Also, you and the nature-walkers’ letter writing campaign was really effective. Weston was in here this morning. You’re all clear for a nature walk at 4:30.”

“I know,” Fran grins. 

“You’ve got a really cool kid there, Taylor,” Mr. Santanos says.

“I really do,” Taylor says, not even like she’s just playing along. Like she really does believe. “I gotta get us back to do some resting. But thank you, Rosa.”

“Thank you,” Fran calls.

“You’re welcome,” Rosa calls back.

They get more ice and Ibuprofen, and finally it’s time for Dominique’s letter.

\--

When she gets back to the cabin, Fran turns her attention to the last letter on her pillow. She rips open the envelope and reads:

_June 29, 2022_

_Dear Fran,_

_No one here knows this, except my parents but when I was ten? I went to cheer camp. It’s probably a little different from Camp Bravery but I think the sense of belonging might be something that you find at your camp that I found at mine._

_I know how long you’ve been waiting to hang out with other kids who have CP like you. Now you have a whole camp full of kids with lots of different disabilities. Is it overwhelming in a good way? Do you feel like you fit in? I hope so. That is so important._

_I’m planning to come tonight with Mariana and Jesus when he talks to your camp. And I took the day off Saturday so I can drive up again with them to pick you up. Can’t wait to see you._

_Tell me everything. Who are your friends? Your counselors? I bet I’ll meet a few of them tonight, but I always want to hear from you. You are amazing and I’m so happy you’ve got this opportunity._

_Love,_

_Dominique_

_\--_

_Wednesday, July 1, 2022_

_Dear Dominique,_

_I already saw you on Wednesday night and you met some of my counselors and friends just like you said. It is so cool that you got to come and you are coming again tomorrow._

_I do feel like I fit in. It is overwhelming in a good way because I never feel like this at home. Even when I’m with you guys, it’s not quite the same because I am the only kid. Here, there are just as many kids as there are safe adults._

_Guess what? I can’t remember if I told you but me and my friends Jonah and Dia are reading the sixth Harry Potter book. We are going to try to get as far as we can today but I don’t think we will finish it. I wish we could. Reading with friends is the best._

_Also I already told Jesus that he can tell you guys (and I told Pearl and Levi) but I fell yesterday and hit my head. It was a big fall and I felt a lot of trauma. I got all taken care of but I still feel scared._

_When I see you tomorrow, will you bring Roberta? I hope so._

_Love,_

_Fran_

\--

Fran checks the time and amazingly there is still a little left. 

“Dia…” she calls. “Do you want to spell to me?”

Olivia is right there with Dia like always, so that when Dia comes over, Olivia does too. Dia is feeling a lot of feelings about camp being over. She’s going to leave in just a few hours.

“I still want to be your friend after camp. Can I write to you?” Fran asks.

Dia gets up and walks around. Fran isn’t sure if she’s nervous or what. She finally comes back with a string backpack and shoves it at Fran.

“You want me to open this?” Fran whispers. 

_“Yes.”_

“I think...there could be something in there that will help you guys stay in touch, right, Dia?” Olivia checks.

Dia nods.

It feels weird looking through Dia’s stuff but finally in a front pocket she finds multicolored cards. They’re even laminated:

TO MY CAMP FRIENDS. PLEASE WRITE ME AND I WILL WRITE YOU BACK. LOVE, DIA. Underneath is her address. And all the social media links she has.

“May I take one?” Fran asks.

Dia nods.

Belatedly, Fran sees a stack of blank cards. “Are these for us? To put our stuff on?”

Dia nods.

And Fran gets to work leaving Dia a message: _To Dia, my best friend at Camp Bravery. I will always write to you. I love you. Love, Fran._ Underneath, she leaves her street address and all her social media links too, and her phone number in case Dia wants to text.

“I love you,” Fran says. Dia hugs her hard. “Did you get your camp picture in my frame?”

Dia pats the bag again and Fran looks inside the main part. “Oh, you did. Yay. I won’t look, because I want the picture to be a surprise.”

Dia clings tightly to her arm. 

“We’ll hang out today. Okay? I promise. During free time. And we’ll say a really good goodbye before you go.” Fran says. She unzips her dino bag and offers Dia some cookies.

Dia takes them and rips open the package.

“Cookies help everything, right?” Fran asks, opening a matching package for herself.

Dia nods in agreement.

\--

Fran is really not looking forward to swimming today. But, good news, they get to pick whether they want to swim or boat. And Fran and Jonah both pick boating. So do Sarah and Taylor.

So it’s just the four of them, really cozy in a boat.

It takes Fran a second to realize that only Taylor’s pedaling the boat. That Sarah can’t. 

She swallows all of her million questions, hearing Dominique’s words in her mind:

_“You won’t die from being curious.”_ She tries to stop staring, because Fran knows how it feels to be stared at.

“This is the life,” Taylor sighs, like pedaling a boat with four people in it is super relaxing.

Sarah laughs. “Isn’t it? God, if I knew life could be like this when I was growing up…”

Taylor just listens. Fran and Jonah follow her lead.

“When I was growing up, my mom used to challenge the ableist people we met who felt sorry for me by saying: _“If you don’t think people in wheelchairs can do something, well, you just watch Sarah…”_

Fran gets a gross feeling inside, but she can’t tell what it is.

Jonah asks, “Didn’t that feel performative?”

“Oh, it totally did,” Sarah nods.

There’s a pause, while Jonah thinks. “So, now, in a way, doesn’t everything?”

“Oh my God, you just explained so much of my life…” Sarah exclaims.

“What do you mean?” Fran wonders.

“Like, when you get put on the spot to do something,” Jonah explains. “Just to show you can do it? Or if a crowd forms to watch you do something basic?”

“Ew,” Fran decides.

“So, I'm asking...when that happens...doesn’t it make Sarah feel… How _does_ it feel, Sarah?” he checks.

“It feels dehumanizing,” Sarah says. “Meaning, it makes me feel less like a person, and more like...an object...I guess?”

“So, Jonah was saying, doesn’t your whole life make you feel dehumanizing?” Fran wonders. “And you said it does.”

“I did,” Sarah agrees.

“That’s how I feel when Moms make me tell strangers at the grocery store about my CP. Or when my grandma makes me show her my walk,” Fran shares. “Lots of my life does feel like that, too. I didn’t know it was normal.”

“I mean, it’s not. It shouldn’t be,” Sarah corrects herself. “But you’re definitely not alone in the feeling.”

“Do you guys feel it?” Fran wonders, asking Jonah and Taylor.

“It's not the same thing. But I think being in public at all, I do. Everybody is watching all the time, wondering how I’ll handle this or that and I’m expected to live up to this expectation. To be this certain kind of person, and I’m just me. I’m not perfect. And I don’t handle myself perfectly at all times,” Taylor shares.

“Oh,” Fran says. 

It really is so surprising to her that Taylor isn’t perfect. Well, Fran knows she isn’t perfect, because no one is. It’s just that she wants to be just like Taylor when she grows up.

She’s the greatest ever, but it doesn’t seem like the right time to just blurt that out. 

“And I just kind of lean into it,” Jonah says, and it takes a minute for Fran to remember the conversation about always feeling like they’re performing. “I can’t really escape it, so giving speeches and stuff kinda helps me control what people stare at me for and ask me questions about.”

“That’s really good,” Taylor tells him.

Fran leans back in the boat, looking up at the sky. “But we’re full humans here,” she says.

“We’re fully human everywhere,” Sarah corrects gently. “But maybe we feel it the most here.”

“Yeah,” Fran agrees. “I think you’re right.”


	55. Again

Weston is fucking exhausted by the time he gets to the lounge with Sarah. He’s glad it’s the last day. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. 

He’d had weird dreams all night. Just of being so fucking alone and lonely. In dark cars. Feeling scared. Exposed and shit. And there are just some things he can’t tell Mister about. This is one of them.

She, at least, seems more relaxed and in a good mood, even if she’s tired. She’s pretty much always in a good mood, but still.

“What’s up?” he asks, suspicious. “Why are you happy?”

“Honey, it’s okay to be happy, right? I’m still safe. But, to answer your question,” she says, as she goes to the couch and transfers. “I just had a really nice time in a peddle boat with Taylor, Fran and Jonah.”

“I always thought it was  _ paddle _ boating...but there’s no paddle, so…” he comes over with their coffees of the day. One cinnamon dolce thing for her and one coconut espresso for him.

“No food?” he asks, concerned.

Sarah takes a plastic package out of her backpack and holds it out to him. “Always food,” she reassures him. “I didn’t know if you’d had these before, but I found them in a cupboard and thought of you. They’re pineapple with chocolate. I think it’s probably dried, and sugared, so it’ll taste a little different.”

“But it’s real pineapple?” he checks.

“It’s real pineapple. As real as we can get today. Until tomorrow, when we go to pick out an actual one.” Sarah says. She offers him the bag first, and he picks one out.

“Mmm,” he says. “Tastes okay.” He takes a second piece. “Like candy.”

“I’m glad. There’s other food, too. You don’t have to only eat this,” Sarah tells him.

But Weston’s comfortable having the chocolate pineapple and the coconut espresso. It tastes like he’s on a faraway tropical island. Like he always saw on TV growing up. He imagines himself climbing a pineapple tree, even though he and Mister have looked it up, and he knows they actually grow in the ground.

“I was talking to Jonah and mentioned a thing Grandma always said to strangers about me,” Sarah shares.

“Uh-oh,” Weston says. “If Grandma’s involved, this can’t be good…”

“I mentioned how it always made me feel like I had to perform. Like...I couldn’t just _ be _ . Because even doing basic stuff, that could draw a crowd...if I was with her...and Jonah asked,  _ ‘Doesn’t everything sort of feel like that now?” _

“And what did you say?” Weston asks.

“I said that he just explained so much of my life,” Sarah shares.

“But you don’t feel that with me, though, right?” Weston asks. “We can be ourselves? We don’t have to be performing and shit for each other?”

“Right. How are you doing? Since last night? Nico, and the talent show and those feelings?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it again…” he admits. “We already did.”

“This is true,” Sarah nods. She hasn’t eaten much of the pineapple. It could be because he’s clutching the bag. He offers it to her, and she shakes her head. “Thanks, though. Hey, Stun? How  _ are _ you feeling?”

“I’m...excited for the nature walk,” he offers. That’s something safe. Something they can talk about without any complications.

“Yeah? I’m excited for you, too. I know you and the campers have been looking forward to that, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” he smiles a little.

“And I’m really proud of how you went and asked Mr. Santanos about it this morning. You handled that so well,” she praises him.

“I just really wanted to go, and I know the campers do, too,” Weston shrugs.

“Just make sure you go by Mr. Santanos’s office and pick up a walkie-talkie,” Sarah reminds him.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got my instructions.” He pulls them out of his pocket for a good measure.

“Good. Oh, and we have to wear our staff shirts tomorrow,” Sarah remembers.

“No,” Weston says.

“Okay. I hear you saying no,” Sarah says.

“Good. ‘Cause I am,” Weston crosses his arms. “You said wearing dirty shit was a hygiene thing.”

“Oh, Stun, yes. You’re absolutely right. I was just thinking out loud, and I hadn’t gotten to the part about me asking consent to wash your shirt when I wash my own.”

“When?” he asks.

“Well...maybe now?” she asks.

\--

So, they go by the cabins where Weston finds a huge mess and the fill-in counselors trying to organize shit while the kids pack. Weston finds his staff shirt in with his dirty laundry and pulls it out. He sniffs it.

“Ew!” Nico laughs. “I found dirty socks!”

“Gross!” Jesse calls out. “Don’t throw them over here!”

“They’re not mine!” Nico insists.

“Do they have wands and brooms on them?” Jonah checks.

“I didn’t want to look!” Nico shrieks.

“They do,” Jesse says, bravely examining a sock.

“Then they’re mine.” Jonah says.

Weston’s on his way out when he passes Corbin in the fabric swing. He’s got headphones on and an I-Pad in front of him. He reaches out for Weston as he passes by.

“Hey,” Weston stops in front of him. Even though Corbin’s still watching his show, Weston knows he’s listening. “We’re still going on a nature walk today at 4:30, okay?”

Corbin smiles down at his laptop.

“Alright, buddy, I’ll see you then. I’m excited,” Weston says.

Just like the beginning of the week, they stop by the washer and dryer and Sarah puts their shirts in to wash. They head back to the lounge. He offers to push her and for once, she takes him up on it.

\--

“So, listen, you know I hate to be a nag, but I really need you to keep an eye on the time during your nature walk.” Sarah says, from their spot on the couch again.

“Why?” Weston asks.

“Honey, because it’s important that you follow the rules. Rules keep us all safe, remember?” she checks.

“What if I don’t?” he asks, soft, a challenge in his voice. He hates it when she tells him what to do, like he doesn’t know anything.

“Well, then, I’ll be very worried about you,” Sarah says. “So I need you to come back on time.”

“You’re one to talk…” Weston mutters under his breath. It’s a tone they don’t use with each other. One that means disrespect. He’s known since he was thirteen - earlier than that even - at The Center - not to talk to her like this. But he can’t help it.

“Weston. That’s not kind,” Sarah tells him. She’s not mad, just matter of fact.

“Well,  _ you’re _ not being kind to  _ me _ !” he exclaims. “You  _ just told me _ how we don’t have to perform for each other and shit? To put on an act? We can be authentic? But now it’s like…all you’re worried about is how it’ll look if I come back late? Fuck that.”

“Weston, I--”

“You’re acting like every damn foster parent -- every damn social worker in my life! Policing how I act and everything I do instead of caring about  _ me _ !”

Weston’s up off the couch. He can’t sit next to her. So, it’s back to the beanbag in the corner again.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah tells him. “I didn’t realize how this would seem to you, honey.”

Weston’s up again, cautiously moving toward her. Sitting on the edge of the couch farthest away from her.

“You’re using our time to connect...for this…” he says, helpless. “And you said that’s not important.”

“You’re right. Making sure you behave a certain way because it reflects well on me? That’s not something I do. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that’s what you got from me just now.”

“‘Cause maybe it’s not what you meant?” he checks, hopeful.

“It is not what I meant at all,” Sarah tells him, sounding sad.

He moves closer until he’s leaning against her again. “What  _ did _ you mean?”

“I was remembering how scared I was earlier in the week...when I didn’t know where you were. When I wondered if something had happened to you...or if you were okay…” Sarah manages, her voice thick.

“Meaning?” he checks.

“Meaning...that making sure you’re prepared...and that you know what’s expected? That will help you stay safe. And making sure you’re safe  _ is _ me caring about you, honey.”

“It felt...uncaring…” he ventures. “Like you didn’t care about me as a person, you just wanted to boss me around and make me do shit that you didn’t do.”

“I can see what that felt uncaring...and unfair…” Sarah offers.

“Because everybody was like that with me,” Weston adds. “Fucking everybody. And...I guess...it reminded me of my mom. She’d come and go whenever...and she always left me behind, but like...made me stay home. I don’t know if that makes sense,” Weston says.

“It sounds like I triggered a bunch of feelings in you… Maybe from when you were young?” Sarah observes.

“Yeah. But you didn’t mean to? It’s because you want me to be safe when I go out?” Weston checks.

“That’s right. I am sorry. That what I said was unkind and uncaring and unfair to you. I’ll be clearer next time. Would that help?”

Weston nods, thinking. “And I’m sorry. For not being kind. For being rude. I’ll...ask questions next time first? Would that help?”

“Yes, honey. That would help,” Mister opens her arms and he goes into them. “I love you. And I am so happy you’re my Stun.”

“Even when we fight?” he wonders.

“Especially then, because that’s when you need me the most, isn’t it?” she asks.

“I guess so,” he nods. It feels good in her arms. It used to just feel weird, but over the years, it’s started feeling more toward good.

“That was a beautiful apology by the way,” Mister tells him. “I’m so proud of you. And for being able to trust me, even when we were both feeling a lot of feelings.”

“Well, you won’t hurt me.” He says the words easily. Believes them.

“You’re right. I won’t. But if I do hurt you - even accidentally? Like when I ran into your heels in the grocery store once? Or like today when you were feeling like I was only concerned with appearances? I want you to tell me. So we can talk calmly and figure things out.”

“And apologize,” Weston adds. “If we’re really sorry, and say what we’ll do differently. And check if that’s what the other person wants.”

“That’s an awesome review of an apology,” Sarah tells him. “I know this has been such a hard week, but we’re almost at the end. Okay? And then we’re going home. Just you and me and the pineapple,” she says dreamily.

He laughs at the unexpectedness of what she says.

“Oh my God…” Weston laughs, hugging her harder. “Just you and me and the pineapple.”

“Well, it will be,” Sarah says. “Just the three of us.”

“What color ribbon will she wear?” Weston asks.

“I don’t know…” Sarah muses. “That’s something fun to think about.”

“Do you have your ribbons in the car?” Weston checks, lifting his head to look at her.

“Of course,” Sarah says. “We’re always prepared, right?”

“I guess we are. What about brown?” he asks. “That’s kinda like our camp shirts. Oh shit, we should get those.”

“Hey. We will. It’s okay to sit here for a minute with me. Let me imagine this… A  _ brown ribbon _ … Hmmm… I’ll see what I have on hand…” Sarah tells him. “I love you, Stun. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” he says. “I mean...I don’t always know, but for right now, I do. Because you told me.”

“I’ll always tell you. As often as you need. I’ll tell you until you hear it so much you’re sick of hearing it.” Sarah says.

“But I’ll never get sick of it,” he protests.

“Okay,” she answers, and hangs onto him a little tighter. “Then I’ll always tell you.”


	56. Almost

Francesca has money in her canteen account she hasn’t even spent because she already has snacks (and because her friends are generous.) 

She decides she wants to get a camp shirt. It’s light blue, with a butterfly over the right chest. In small silver letters it says,  _ Transformation happens when you’re free to grow.  _ And on the back?  _ Camp Bravery 2022. _ Back at the cabin, when she’s done packing, she asks Taylor about fabric markers. Taylor has them, of course - she has everything. 

Fran borrows one and takes her shirt around to the other kids in her cabin. She has the best idea - she wants everyone to sign her shirt. Everyone in Sunshine cabins. Except Giselle is overwhelmed at packing. Lexie’s crying because it’s the last day. And she can’t find Dia anywhere.

“Hey, maybe it’s not the best time for this, Fran,” Olivia cautions, as she and Dia head toward the bathrooms.

“Dia, I’ll wait for you in the library,” Fran says, sticking her head inside the main bathroom door. 

Fran heads next door and knocks on the Sunshine boys cabin door. Pablo opens the door. “Hey,” he grins. “Everything is pretty much chaos in there.”

“Is Jonah…? I mean, we’re supposed to read…”

“I’m almost done!” Jonah calls.

Pablo mouths, “He is not almost done,” with a smile.

“Hey, do you want to--?” Fran is halfway through holding up her new shirt and marker when Nico screams “Counselor! Jonah’s socks stink!” from inside.

“Sorry, I have to go. How is your head, by the way?” he checks.

“More Ibuprofen at 4:30, before I leave on the nature walk,” she reports.

“If it hurts before then, let us know, okay?” Pablo says. Then he closes the screen door and says a bunch of Spanish that makes Jonah laugh as he heads back into the cabin.

Fran’s head hurts all the time, but she doesn’t mention it - besides Pablo’s obviously busy.

So, Fran carefully walks to the library by herself. She gets their book off its shelf and sits down to wait at their table. But it’s super lonely because she’s the only kid there.

She starts to cry a little, just thinking that this is all about to be over.

\--

“Hey,” a familiar voice greets.

Fran glances up. Brighton is here. “May I sit down?”

“Isn’t this your break?” Fran asks, wiping her eyes.

“It is,” Brighton says, “But I saw you come in, and I figured my thousandth reread of Junie B. Jones could wait.” 

Fran can’t tell if they’re joking.

“Are you joking?” she asks.

“I would never joke about Junie B. Jones,” Brighton says seriously. “I love that series.”

“Me, too,” Fran nods.

“What’s up? You look sad…” Brighton offers. They’re holding a weird ball-shaped stuffed animal.

“I  _ am _ sad,” Fran sniffs. “This is our last day to read Harry Potter, and Jonah’s still packing, and Dia’s in our cabin. I wanted us to spend time together, and it’s just not working out.”

“That’s disappointing, right?” Brighton offers, sympathetic. They give Fran the stuffed animal who makes little chittering noises. It’s shaped like a furry ball with no arms. It has a real actual heartbeat that is pumping as hard as Fran’s before the talent show.

“Hold them gently. They like it when you pet them,” Brighton encourages.

Fran clutches it to her and tries to breathe deep to calm the fur ball down. Soon, it’s heartbeat goes slower. Then… “They’re purring!” Fran exclaims, tears still falling. “I made them happy, and they’re purring!”

“Great job!” Brighton says. “How can I help?”

“I just wanted to be with my friends, and I don’t feel like they want to be with me. I feel lonely. Plus, I have to leave at 4:30 to go on a nature walk, so that means I have even less time with Dia. She’s going to leave before dinner. And Jonah’s fingers have been really hurting, so I turn the pages for him, but it takes us a really long time to work together. I wanted to get as far as we can.”

“Well...I love to read aloud. Do you think I could read to you and Dia and Jonah?”

“Would you want to?” Fran asks, skeptical. “Usually grown ups don’t want to hang out with kids unless they have to.”

“I do,” Brighton says so seriously. “I love you all, and I want to hang out with you, but I know a lot of times, campers would rather not hang out with their counselors.”

“Not me,” Fran insists. “I love my counselors. Hey,” she pauses, glancing around for interruption. When nothing happens, Fran keeps going. She unfolds her shirt and flips it over. “Do you want to sign this? I’ve been trying to ask people because I want to get everybody in Sunshine cabins to write something if they want, but everybody’s too busy.”

“I’d love to!”

Brighton gets to work right then. They write more than just their name, and Fran is so excited. When they’re finished, they offer. “I can take this around and make sure the other campers and counselors have the chance to sign it so you don’t have to feel rushed...only if you’re okay with it, though.”

“You would really want to do that?” Fran asks, shocked.

“What can I say? I love to help. Would that be okay?” Brighton asks.

“That would be so great,” Fran nods

By then, Jonah and Kieran arrive, and a little bit later Olivia comes in with Dia. Fran hands out snacks for everybody, including Brighton, and tells them the plan: 

“Brighton offered to read aloud to us today,” Fran shares.

“Oh, no way!” Jonah breathes. “Will you do the voices?”

“You know I will,” Brighton grins and opens the book. Fran settles in next to Dia and watches her color.

And for just this one hour, things feel pretty close to perfect.

\--

When it’s almost 4:30, Brighton gives her a heads up. “Ibuprofen time,” they remind Fran.

“Oh, right,” and just like that, Olivia’s there to walk with her to the nurse.

“Just wait, though,” Fran hesitates. “Bye, Dia. I love you and I’ll write to you, I promise.

Dia keeps coloring.

“Okay...bye…” Fran calls again. “I’m gonna go on a nature walk after this, so this is the last time I’ll see you.”

Suddenly, Dia’s up and hugging Fran uncomfortably tight. She won’t let go.

“Do you want to come to the nurse with us?” Fran asks.

But Dia lets go and goes back to her coloring.


	57. Nature

It takes Fran and Olivia a while to get to and from the nurse, and Fran is worried the nature walkers will leave without her.

She checks the picnic table near the dining hall where they all met last time and her heart sinks. Nobody’s there. But then she hears Weston’s voice: “We’ll just wait for her by the picnic table. We’ve got plenty of time this time. Oh, there she is!” he points out, his face breaking into a smile.

“We were just going to wait for you,” Jesse tells her.

_ “I want to go on a nature walk,” _ Corbin says, after he presses some buttons on his tablet.

“Yeah, let’s go. Fran, you want a hand?” Weston asks.

It takes her a minute to remember that Sarah’s Weston’s mom. That he probably figured out what happened when he saw her ginormous bump after Sarah and Fran were gone forever yesterday.

If this were before camp, Fran would be sure Weston meant this in a mean way. Because everybody in her life just thought she was clumsy and walked like a baby, except The Avoiders. But when Weston asks, Fran feels protected. She feels accommodations. And love.

She accepts his hand. It feels kind of like Jesus’s. Strong.

“You have a walkie-talkie,” Fran observes when they reach a place to sit down. (Not a bench, thank goodness.)

“I know how to use walkie-talkies,” Jesse adds. “Me and Lexie used them when two of our cousins were on a secret rescue mission.”

They all notice Corbin typing and wait. Prim just lies down in the grass like she loves it. No one has anywhere to be. This feeling could make Fran cry. Home doesn’t feel like this.

“ _ What mission?”  _ Corbin asks.

“Oh. A mission to save some candy from our mean cousin. Our nice cousins were in on it.” Jesse fills in.

“Why’d she take your candy?” Weston wonders.

“It’s a long story. She was… It’s embarrassing. But I really wanted to be in this club she had. My other cousins were in it. The nice ones. So, she agreed to let me in, but only if I gave her my candy. My mom made her give it back, so before she left? She stole Lexie’s. Shane and Connor, our nice cousins, were getting it back.”

“I’m glad you had nice cousins,” Weston comments. “Is that how you knew about this place? Because of your family? Did they come to the workshop Sarah and Corbin were at?”

“No. That was Emma,” Jesse admits.

“Who’s Emma?” Fran wonders.

“She’s our Sunday school teacher. She has CP like us. She doesn’t mind people knowing.” Jesse fills in.

_ “Mean Moms,” _ Corbin comments.

“Your mom is mean to you?” Weston checks.

_ “No. Fran’s. Don’t believe. Just think I am bad. Can’t spell. Can’t do anything. I feel ragey. Mad as hell,” _ Corbin fills in. Prim has moved a little, to rest her head in his lap.

“You met my moms at the workshop?” Fran asks, feeling trauma slam into her. “And they were mean to you?”

_ “Yes,” _ Corbin says, tapping the letters. (He touches  _ “We are the nature walkers!” _ in between, but no one laughs.)

“I’m so sorry…” Fran breathes, blinking tears back. “I’m so sorry they were mean to you. And hurt you. I believe you. And I look up to you. And thank you for teaching my moms.”

_ “Do they love you?” _ Corbin asks.

“I don’t think so,” Fran admits.

_ “We do,”  _ Corbin spells, tapping the letters like he’s sure.  _ “We love you.” _

“How can you guys love me? Knowing how awful my moms are? That’s not even the worst thing they’ve done…” Fran cries.

“Hey,” Weston says, quiet. “Listen to me. I don’t know a lot. But I know this. Kids don’t get a choice about who our parents are. Sometimes, we luck out and get great ones.”

“Like Sarah,” Jesse fills in. “Or like Lexie and me. Or Nico.”

“Right,” Weston nods. “But...before Sarah I had another mom...and a stepdad...and a lot of foster parents. And none of those people...they didn’t treat me the best. They weren’t nice. But that...it wasn’t my fault. I used to think it was. I still forget sometimes. But Sarah reminds me.”

“You’re lucky,” Fran comments quietly. “To have Sarah for a mom.”

“I know,” Weston answers. “My point is, it is not our fault when our family - our cousin, or our moms or whoever - “

_ “Grocery store people,” _ Corbin interjects.

“Oh, the worst!” Fran exclaims.

“It’s not our fault that all those people suck,” Weston says. “It’s not your fault that your moms are jerks. You are all so goddamn loveable, okay? (I’ll so get in trouble with Sarah and Mr. Santanos for that one, but you all need to know, okay?”)

“Okay,” Fran says. “But I still don’t want to go back. My sister-in-law just had a baby, and everybody loves him the most, and when I was born everybody cried…” She sounds bitter but she doesn’t even care. “My sister Mariana even said. Moms cried, and not happy tears either.”

“ _ We are the nature walkers! We are loveable!”  _ Corbin exclaims.

“That’s right,” Weston nods. “And that seriously sucks, Fran. Who else is dealing with going back to a home that doesn’t feel safe?”

“Not with my mean cousin,” Jesse volunteers.

_ “No place like camp, _ ” Corbin says.

“Yeah, no place feels as safe as camp does,” Fran confirms.

“Transition is really hard. I know we talked about trauma earlier in the week and sometimes… Sometimes moving from somewhere that feels totally safe to somewhere that feels less safe feels like that. It feels dangerous.”

“And hopeless,” Fran comments. “I keep having to go back home, and yeah, it’s not as bad as it used to be. But it’s not good. You guys don’t have to try to love us and care about us,” she says, looking at Weston. “My moms totally do, and we can tell.”

There’s silence for a while. Fran picks some grass and lets it go again, even though Weston told them not to touch anything. Grass isn’t dangerous. Corbin’s doing the same. Jesse is just sitting quietly. Fran’s not sure what Weston is doing - maybe thinking, because eventually, he speaks up:

“I want you guys to know...that this place is called Camp Bravery, right? But listen to me. I’m not going to give you some bullshit about how brave it made you. Or even how brave you already are. I know, if you’re brave? It’s probably because you’ve had no choice.”

Fran nods. It’s shocking hearing an adult talk like this, but she can’t stop listening.

“I’m sorry. Am I scaring you guys if I swear?” Weston checks.

“No,” Jesse says.

“No,” Fran agrees.

Corbin shakes his head and says,  _ “Strong words for strong times.” _

“Okay so...fuck bravery. Not camp. That’s not what I’m saying. Just...you don’t have to be brave. You have the right to feel about this. Fran, you did it last night. Corbin, you did it earlier in the week. Jesse, you did, too. And it’s okay. It’s okay to not be happy about a shitty thing.”

Fran sniffs. She puts her arm around Jesse. Corbin puts an arm around her. They just feel sad together.

“But I want you three to remember something: You’ve got me now. Forever. It’s you and me. And if you need me, for anything? You text me, and I’ll be there. Video chat, or I’ll drive to you if I can. You guys are stuck with me. If you consent?”

“I consent!” Fran exclaims, through her tears. “I need as many safe adults as possible.”

“I consent too!” Jesse agrees, and it’s the loudest Fran has heard him talk.

They wait for Corbin to say, “ _ I consent _ ,” and then Weston gives them all his phone number.

“This isn’t just a work number. This is  _ my number _ , okay? You guys can check in with me, at least once a week. And if there’s an emergency, don’t worry about reaching out to me too much.”

Fran puts Weston’s number in her phone. Jesse does the same, and then Fran helps Corbin save it on his tablet.

“Okay, nature walker huddle,” Weston says and they all hold onto each other around the shoulders. It takes Fran a minute to realize Weston’s crying, too. She’s never seen a guy cry except Jesus rarely. But Weston does it easily. “Fuck bravery,” he says. “We don’t have to be brave. We can just be us.”

Fran can’t make herself say the F-word, but she repeats the last part in her head over and over.

Some static comes over Weston’s walkie-talkie.

“Time to start heading back. Over.”

“Is that Mr. Santanos?” Jesse asks.

“It is,” Weston nods. 

_ “We love you,” _ Corbin says. He goes to hug Fran and accidentally knocks into her chin with his hand.

“It’s okay,” she reassures him. And she hugs him back. “We love you, too.” She can feel it as Jesse joins in on the outside.

“What about if I hug around all of you? Is that cool?” Weston asks.

“Yes,” they chorus, except Corbin accidentally says,  _ “We are the nature walkers.” _ Then he says  _ “yes.” _

“We don’t have to be brave,” Fran whispers.

“We can just be us,” Jesse says.

They make their way back to camp. Fran sees Dia and calls out to her. “Wait! I can’t run fast!”

“You want me to run you over there?” Weston asks.

“Please!” Fran says, and Weston picks her up like she weighs nothing and carries her to where Dia’s getting in the car with her family.

They get there just in time.

Breathlessly, Fran says: “I love you. And you don’t have to be brave, okay, even though this is Camp Bravery. It’s okay to just be you. And I love you.”

“We have to go,” Dia’s mom says from the front seat.

Dia can’t look up from what she’s doing. Fran has to let the door close. Let them drive away.

Fran lets the tears fall.

“I know. Leaving sucks. I know,” Weston reassures. He carries her all the way to the dining hall. No one stares or even cares or comments that she’s being carried.

Outside the dining hall, she sees Brighton with her shirt and the marker, and Corbin is there, showing them his tablet. They’re copying a message down on Fran’s brand-new camp shirt.

By the time they make it over there, Corbin is gone, too, but Fran can’t resist glancing at his message:

_ GLAD TO TEACH. YOU’RE AN HONOR TO LOVE. FUCK BRAVERY. - Corbin _

And under that?

_ Love you. Love Dia. _

In Dia’s own handwriting.


	58. Living

After Dia leaves, it’s really hard for Fran to collect herself. She knows she doesn’t really have to, but also, that she wants to be able to eat. (There’s cheesy potato soup with baked chicken and cous cous tonight. She’s not excited about the veggies, but she munches a couple carrot sticks anyways.)

Rosa is back up at the front like she was the first day of camp. And just like the first day, she spends time talking to them about what a good week it’s been. Fran’s head throbs like, “I object,” but Fran just sets some of her ice on it and tries to listen.

“This has been a big week for a lot of you,” Rosa begins. “Some of you have come to camp for the very first time. Some of you have been able to try activities you’ve never tried. All of you have made friendships that I hope will last a lifetime.”

And then, Rosa leads them in the We Are Camp Bravery song. It’s very rousing, and it gets Fran’s spirits up.

After dinner, it’s time for Large Group Discussion. Fran hasn’t gotten the chance to be here for this in awhile. She walks in and sits down between Taylor and Jonah...and then her eyes light up as she sees who is at the front of the room.

She can’t help it. Fran runs. She almost falls again, but this time, she’s caught before anything gets damaged.

“Oliver!” she exclaims. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here!”

“Hey!” he laughs. “Good thing I was here to catch you.”

“I know. I already fell once this week. Twice would not be good! Are you leading Large Group tonight?”

“I am, yeah.” Oliver grins.

“I didn’t know that,” Fran says, sitting down next to him. “You know, I feel less alone when you’re here. And less weird from being adopted. Even though there are a lot of people in my cabins who are. We’ve actually talked about it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Oliver nods.

“Are you talking about adoption tonight?” Fran asks, curious.

“I’m actually talking about friendships,” Oliver shares.

“Olivia didn’t say one word about you coming,” Fran passes along. 

“I asked her not to say anything...just in case it didn’t work out. I didn’t want you guys to feel disappointed.” Oliver shares. “Go sit down, okay?”

“Okay,” Fran agrees.

“I love Oliver,” Jonah whispers, when Fran gets settled.

“I know. I even text him sometimes,” Fran shares.

“Oh my gosh, can I text  _ you _ sometimes, Fran? I love you,” Taylor says in a funny voice, that’s also one-hundred percent true.

“Please,” Fran giggles.

“Okay, guys,” Olivia calls from the front of the room. “Hi!”

“Hi!” a bunch of them in the audience say back.

“This is my big brother, Oliver. He’s gonna come around and talk to you guys about friendships. But that’s kind of a big topic. So he’d like to see you in a little bit smaller groups, if you can manage.”

“This isn’t small group discussion,” a high school camper calls out, laughing.

“Adapting is a skill. And as disabled people, we’ve all got it, right? So, let me see it,” Olivia challenges with a smile.

Fran makes sure to ask Taylor and Jonah to be in her group. Then she also finds Weston and Jesse. So it’s almost like The Nature Walkers, except no Corbin, because he went home already. 

They talk about nothing until Oliver gets over to them. There’s an empty chair for him to sit in, and he does. “So, I wanted to talk to you guys about whatever you wanna talk about that’s got to do with friendships.”

“Anything?” Jesse asks.

“Anything,” Oliver nods.

“Okay, well…” Jesse begins, surprising Fran. “My best friend is my sister. We’re best friends because we’ve known each other forever, so we get each other. And we’re nice to each other most of the time.”

“Awesome,” Weston says. “That does make a good best friend, huh? Somebody who really knows you.”

“Yeah,” Jesse nods. “But somebody else go now.”

“I don’t really have a best friend,” Jonah admits, and Fran is surprised again. 

“Really?” she asks. “I thought you had a ton of friends.”

“I do...but I don’t really have a  _ best friend _ . Unless you count my mom,” Jonah worries.

“You can definitely count your mom,” Taylor encourages. “Moms can be awesome best friends.”

“Yeah, when they’re safe,” Fran remarks.

“What about you, Fran? Best friend?” Jonah asks.

“Well… It’s complicated. At school, I have this little group of us, and we’re pretty close. But I’d say Bella is probably my best friend. It’s just that...she doesn’t have a disability? Not that I know of, anyways. And she’s always been great about helping me and not being weird about it, and like, defending me if someone’s being a peon. But…”

“But there’s maybe more to you…” Oliver offers.

“Yeah,” Fran nods. “It’s like...camp is the first place where I feel like it’s okay to be all of me. All the parts. Where at home I have to hide my Asianness around Mama, and my Blackness around Mom, and I have to act like a bio kid. There and at school, I have to hide my disability. But here...I can like whoever I like and it’s not a thing. I can be adopted...and multi-ethnic...and disabled.”

Oliver extends a closed fist her way. She fist-bumps him. And she feels like he’s the one person here who gets all those pieces of her.

“It can be hard...like…” Jesse begins and then stops. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“Friendships can be hard?” Weston asks.

“Yeah, or like, just being around them, it’s like...I have to act,” Jesse tries to explain. “I have to fake it, but I can’t, so they always know.”

“You’re talking about passing?” Taylor asks, and nods at Oliver to say more if he wants.

“Yeah, you and Fran both are mentioning something called passing. Where those of us who maybe...don’t need, like, a wheelchair or something? We can kinda pretend we’re not disabled, right?” Oliver checks.

“But it doesn’t work,” Fran points out.

“Yeah,” Jesse nods.

“How does it feel to have to work so hard, being around nondisabled people most of the time? To try to fit in with us?” Taylor asks.

“It’s tiring,” Jonah offers. “Because even though I can’t hide my chair or my vent or anything, I can push myself too hard because I want to be a part of things.”

“Maybe, what you’re trying to say, Jesse, is like… You’re saying that this is rare. Being in a space with majority disabled people. Most of our lives are spent around ableds, and we’re, like, just trying to fit in, right? And it’s a losing battle?” Oliver wonders.

Jesse nods. “That’s why I like it here.”

“Do you guys think there’s issues that come up when you’re friends with ableds?” Oliver asks.

“Yeah, they ask, “Why do you walk like that?” Jesse says.

“Why can’t you do this?” Fran adds.

“Can you breathe for one second without your vent?” Jonah says. “They make us feel like outsiders.”

“Even the nicest ones,” Fran adds. “Sometimes, my friends at school can’t wait for me, and I feel sad.”

Taylor reaches out and puts an arm around her. “Is it okay if I say I’m sorry on behalf of the ableds?” she whispers.

Fran nods.

“I’m sorry they left you behind.” Taylor whispers seriously and tears spring into Fran’s eyes.

“What about your disabled friendships? What kinds of issues come up there? Or do they?” Oliver asks.

“Well...sometimes, it’s like...I don’t want to offend someone by ignoring their communication, but it’s actually like I should do a boundary?” Fran tries. 

“So boundaries can be hard?” Weston asks.

“Yeah, Fran says. “And I’ve never gone anywhere with, like, Giselle or Nico...but when me and my sister go out together? Sometimes, it’s like we’re the sad parade.”

“Yes! Same with me and my mom!” Jonah exclaims.

“Same with me and Lexie,” Jesse says.

“So, when we gather and go out in public, we get pitied,” Oliver says.

“Yes,” Fran, Jesse and Jonah agree.

“And that feels…” Weston asks.

“Like we’re outsiders again,” Fran says, defeated. “Camp is literally the only place in the world that’s like this. Where we can just be us. And we have to leave it…”

She can feel the tears coming and she glances at Weston. He’s nodding at her.

Taylor hugs her, and then Oliver says, “We’re almost out of time, but this was a great discussion. And it was good to see you, Fran and Jonah.”

Fran opens her arms and Oliver hugs her and says, “You’re gonna be okay. It’s gonna be different, yeah, and that’s hard. But you’re gonna be okay.”

“Okay,” Fran sniffs.

“Let’s go to the canteen together,” Jonah says, offering his lap.

“I just don’t feel super brave walking anymore,” Fran admits. “Not since I smacked my head.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jonah says.

“You really don’t feel like you have a best friend?” Fran checks after a few more seconds.

“I don’t know. Kids are scared, I guess. I’m used to being alone. But it is kind of lonely. Hey, what’s your ideal friend?” he asks.

“You… You and Dia are my ideal friends. That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you. I’m not scared. I mean, I  _ am _ , of  _ a lot _ . But not of you. If you want me, I’d love to be your best friend.”

“Can you have two best friends?” Jonah asks skeptically.

“I think we can have as many as we have,” Fran nods. “So, do you wanna be mine? Or...do you want me to be yours, I guess?”

“Yes. Yes to both. I’d love that. I can’t believe it. Finally,” Jonah says, sounding so happy and relieved. “Let’s get all the snacks we need for the campfire!” he says, driving them into line at the canteen.

“Except, I can’t. I’m broke,” Fran says, bursting into giggles.

“Me, too!” Jonah laughs.

“Oops,” Fran shrugs. “The shirt was worth it.”

“The week of candy I ate was worth it,” Jonah adds.

“Good thing I still have this guy,” Fran says, taking off her dino bag as they get comfortable in the grass.


	59. Light

“So, best friend,” Jonah says, getting comfortable and munching on some cookies.

“So, best friend,” Fran echoes, she’s still smiling, but she can see that Jonah’s serious.

“Are you going to be safe at home?” he asks.

“I mean, safe-ish,” Fran qualifies. “Are you?”

“My dad’s not allowed to be around us anymore, so safe-ish, yes. Nothing really ever feels safe after you’ve been unsafe, though.” Jonah comments, Kieran at his side, ignoring his cookies.

“I know,” Fran sighs. She pauses. Takes a breath. Pauses again. Another breath, and finally: “Corbin knows. He knows the truth of how Moms are.”

“Yes,” Jonah says simply, sadly. But Fran can tell he’s listening.

“Do you?” Fran asks, cringing. 

“I mean, they treated me like I was about one year old when we met once,” Jonah explains. “I think I surprised them.” He pauses, considering, and then speaks again. “When we present at those workshops, we’re prepared ahead of time. For some pretty nasty things. The preparation...it’s intense...and it helps...but the real thing? It always sort of takes you off guard.”

Fran cocks her head.

“We all know, Francesca. And it’s okay. Because we don’t judge you by your parents.”

Fran bites her lip and crinkles her cookie wrapper in her hand.

“Hey, Fran?” Jonah asks. “Even if I didn’t ever meet your parents myself? I’d still believe you.”

“You watch the news, though,” Fran points out. 

“Well, yes.” Jonah admits, confused. 

“So, everybody says they’re great,” Fran points out.

“But my mom talks to me about what we watch, and we discuss a lot of times, like, what Sarah talked about at the workshop? Was that news story consensual? Are the people it’s about present? Do they seem happy?”

“So...you and your mom talked about me and my family?” Fran asks, uncomfortably.

“More generally,” Jonah allows. “Because she was helping me notice details about how stories are told. But I’m sorry...I can tell this is...not your favorite topic. I just wanted to assure you that I don’t believe them. And  _ why _ I don’t.”

“Because of your mom,” Fran fills in, wondering.

“Yes.” Jonah answers.

“I bet you have a letter, like, every day from her, right?” Fran asks, trying to smile.

“How did you guess?” he asks, reaches over and takes out seven letters. One is not even opened yet.

“How did she do that?” Fran asks, impressed.

“She gave them to camp before she left, so each day Rosa puts one in the box for me.” Jonah explains.

“Wow. I wish my moms cared that much,” Fran sighs. “Not that I wanted them to write to me anyways, but I thought at least they’d try.”

Jonah looks shocked. “They haven’t sent you one letter?”

Fran shakes her head. “They’re busy with Talon. He’s my new nephew. He’s almost three months old now.” She sighs. “They love him.”

“But they can love him and still love you. Still think of you. Still write,” Jonah points out.

“I wrote them at the very beginning of the week. The very first letter I sent was to them, and I thought, maybe they’d write me back.” She shrugs. “I’m kinda glad they didn’t. A letter from them would just make me all trauma-ish.”

“Oh,” Jonah answers. “But you  _ have _ gotten mail, right?”

“I got so many letters from Dia, and then Weston wrote me a note, and all of my Avoider friends wrote me, and even Miss Nia,” Fran enthuses.

“Who are your Avoider friends?” Jonah asks.

“Well, two of them are my brother and sister. Plus, my mentor, who is like my sister. Plus another brother and sister in Minnesota. They’re like...kind of another mom, but a nice one...and kind of another nice older brother.”

“So, no one your own age?” Jonah asks.

“Nope. That’s the only hard part. And the good part about camp. I can actually talk to kids my age and feel normal.” Fran says.

“Why Avoiders?” Jonah wonders, smiling a little.

“Well, it’s kinda like camp, because we avoid mean people and just get together with each other and hang out. See? I even have a bracelet,” she shows him her green AVOIDERS UNITE bracelet. “We all have one.”

“I wish I had something like that,” Jonah sighs. “But I live in Spring Valley...and I don’t have any friendships like that, really.”

Fran puts a hand up and Googles. “Okay, but Spring Valley is only fourteen minutes away. So you could totally come over to Jesus’s or something if you wanted to, and we could hang out.”

“Yeah, but I’d have to ask for a ride, and I’d have to have a nurse with me…” Jonah explains. “And Kieran.”

“So? There are people where my brother live that help out all the time. And my brother has Dudley. So he’s used to service dogs.” Fran points out.

“Maybe…” Jonah hedges. “But I’d still have to ask for a ride...and that’s…”

“Ugh,” Fran moans. “It’s the worst. But Jesus doesn’t mind driving me, so maybe I could come to you if that’s easier?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jonah brightens.

Fran hands her phone to Jonah. “Put your number and stuff in here.” She pauses, studying his fingers, which are cracked and bleeding. “Or...tell it to me instead. I can do it.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but take my picture, too,” he jokes, making a funny pose.

She laughs as she takes a picture of him and puts it with his contact details. She puts her own number in his phone when he gives it to her. Fran doesn’t add a picture.

“Looks like they’re getting the fire started,” Jonah observes.

And soon enough, Mr. Santanos is announcing that everybody should gather.

\--

Fran has never been to a real campfire like this, with s’mores. They had s’mores in Minnesota before, but only in the microwave, back when she just turned eleven. This time, it’s real s’mores at a real campfire.

They sing We Are Camp Bravery and then Mr. Santanos speaks up. 

Fran tries to concentrate, while she’s eating her s’more.

“On the last night of camp, we like to get together, eat a little bit, and share with each other. I know that what’s coming next is very hard, and that’s why we’re taking this time to really be present with each other. To feel what we feel, and maybe, if you feel like it, share what camp means to you.”

“Camp means fun!” Nico calls out.

There’s a long pause. Then someone’s tablet rings. “Oh, it’s Dia, everybody,” Mr. Santanos points out.

Fran’s heart lifts.

_ “Camp means friends for life. I love you Fran. I love you Jonah, _ ” she says, pressing one button, so she can keep eating her s’more.

“We love you!” Fran calls back.

“Hogwarts forever!” Jonah adds.

More kids speak up and share and Fran half listens. It’s hypnotizing watching the little fire sparks dance up into the darkness and disappear.

\--

Weston’s trying to help Nico not get marshmallow everywhere, but it’s a losing battle. Honestly, he’s glad for the distraction. The dark, the cool air, even the open sky and the stars, they all remind him of being young. 

Of right before moving in with Sarah.

When he’d run away for the last time. 

When things had been at their worst.

He feels exposed out here like this. He hates it, but he knows by looking around that the campers love it. And this is for them. He knows that in a little bit, he and Sarah are going to touch base, and then tomorrow, they’ll leave.

Weston blinks as Corbin’s face shows up on Rosa’s tablet.

_ “Camp means fuck bravery to me,”  _ Corbin says.

“Oooh! Corbin swore!” Nico insists.

“Yeah, I heard,” Weston says. “I heard him saying bravery is overrated. Bravery’s not really a thing that’s good when you feel forced into it.”

“Yeah, nature walkers!” Francesca cheers.

Across the campfire, Sarah raises her eyebrows at Weston and smiles.

He shrugs and looks away just as Corbin disconnects, and Rosa’s screen goes black.

\--

Sarah absolutely loves the campfire. She loves getting to lead the songs with Taylor and Brighton. She loves all the time and energy they all put into selecting feel-good songs that won’t bring on a ton of tears.

Because the campers need this. They need to feel good tonight. Before they have to face reality tomorrow.

“What camp means to me is safety,” Francesca speaks up, looking at Sarah. “Safety to be who we are. Safety of being taken care of.”

“What camp means to me is...utopia,” Jonah offers, and no one laughs or minimizes his word choice. “Because where else in the world is it going to be like this?”

Sarah clears her throat: “What camp means to me is the world. Because you guys - every single one of you - mean the world to us. So never doubt that you should be here.”

“Never doubt that we love you,” Taylor adds.

They wait to see if anybody else wants to share, and when no one does, and they see that there’s less than half an hour left, it’s time for songs.

Taylor’s on guitar and Sarah and Brighton sing. Taylor makes sure to announce the title and the artist of each song before they start, because Jonah loves knowing that.

So they begin with  _ These Are the Days _ by O-Town. Next is  _ I’m Yours _ by Jason Mraz, followed by  _ Don’t Dream It’s Over _ by Crowded House. There’s a random pick - a song called  _ There She Goes _ by The La’s. They even do some really old ones:  _ Mrs. Robinson _ by Simon & Garfunkel,  _ Dock of the Bay _ by Otis Redding and they finish with  _ Daydream Believer _ by The Monkees. 

“Everywhere we go…” Sarah whispers as campers and counselors are hugging all around her..

_ “Everywhere we go…” _ everyone echoes as they keep holding on.

“People wanna know…” Sarah whispers, moving to head back to the cabins.

_ “People wanna know…” _ everyone echoes, reluctantly following her lead.

“Who we are…” she whispers as they head down the sidewalk.

“ _ Who we are…”  _ Sarah hears the echo behind her.

“So we tell them…” They’re getting closer.

_ “So, we tell them…” _ the voices behind her echo.

“We are Camp Bravery…” she says to her cabin, all assembled inside with her - tears on every face, including her own.

_ “Oh, we are all Camp Bravery…”  _ they tell her, one last time.

And it’s like they’re drawn to each other - magnets to a pole. They hug and hug.

Because they know it’s not going to be like this tomorrow. 


	60. Glow

“Okay, everybody? I know it’s a little bit early, but we have a big day tomorrow, and I want to be sure everybody gets their sleep. So, let’s get changed and into bed, and then, if you want, all of us counselors will take time to talk to each of you before you go to sleep.”

“Because we did something?” Giselle asks.

“No, because we want to talk to you and tell you how much we like having you here at camp,” Sarah explains.

“Okay!” Lexie agrees.

Fran just quietly gets changed, but she really is excited that she’ll get this chance to talk to every counselor. She gets in her bed, all the way under her covers and just waits, her heart pounding in anticipation.

Except, this isn’t the nervous kind that she gets with Moms, when they want to talk to her one on one. It’s thrilling because all of these counselors are adults she loves and trusts and wants to talk to forever.

\--

Brighton comes by first.

“Hey. I just wanted to say goodnight,” they say. “And to give this back.”

Fran squints in the darkness of the cabin and just sees the outline of her teal shirt. “Oh. You brought it back for me! Thank you!”

“I did. I got everybody from Sunshine cabins to sign it - plus a few extras.”

Fran pours over her shirt. She’s already seen Corbin and Dia’s signatures. Some people - Pablo, Sylvan, Koa, Nico, Giselle and Lexie - just signed their names. But there are other messages:

_ You are a force with a strong voice and a lot to say. Don’t let anyone take your power. - Roman Santanos, Camp Director _

_ You have such a beautiful voice. I loved your song. - Rosa Martinez, Admin Office _

_ Thank you for bringing me in, and helping me feel like I belong. - From Jesse Martin _

_ Our lives are full of magic - _

_ Of sorting hats and brooms. _

_ We may not see it clearly _

_ Because the darkness  _

_ Always looms. _

_ But there are things that listen _

_ And people listen too - _

_ Remember this: you’re _

_ Not alone, and _

_ You are human, too. _

_ (Not my best poem, forgive me. Love, Jonah Smith.) _

_ I always see you helping to make sure nobody is left out. You are so thoughtful - Love, Brighton _

_ Be who you are. Who you are is enough. Who you are is amazing. - Sarah Jensen _

_ Your friendship with Dia… I love it so much. There is so much honesty there. It was so fun seeing you this week, but I will be there even after camp is over. - Love, Olivia _

_ You’re so smart. And kind. And wise as hell. If you need me, call. - Weston Jensen _

_ Heyyyy it’s my favorite camper. (We can’t have favorite campers, so that is why I am writing this message by your armpit so no one will know.) I love you. I love doing your hair. I love singing with you and talking with you and doing everything with you. If you ever need help with anything, or if you just want to talk, please let me know. I’d love to stay in touch. Taylor _

Fran can’t stop herself from giggling when she reads Taylor’s message (by her armpit.) It’s hilarious. Brighton laughs, too, when Fran points it out.

This whole time, Brighton just stays with Fran and they read Fran’s shirt together. When she’s done, Fran can’t help it: “Hug?” she asks.

“Of course!” Brighton says, and Fran can hear them smiling.

“Thank you for getting all these messages from people I love. Now, I can always have them with me,” Fran says.

“I was happy to do it,” Brighton says.

“Thank you for being my counselor, and for not asking me awkward questions or making me feel different and stuff,” Fran shares.

“The goal at camp is to make sure everybody feels the same and stuff,” Brighton comments. “And I’m happy to do that. Thank you for being my camper. I was pretty scared when I started out, but having a camper like you made me feel better.”

“What do you mean, a camper like me?” Fran asks.

“I mean, you’re easygoing, you’re kind and generous…” Brighton lists.

“So I made your job easy by not being too much?” Fran guesses.

“No...you made me less afraid, just by being yourself,” Brighton corrects.

“You didn’t act afraid,” Fran points out.

“No. Sometimes we have to be brave to get brave,” Brighton explains.

“And sometimes bravery is overrated,” Fran says, remembering Weston’s words. “You could have been afraid.”

“Hey. Fran? Can I talk to you?” Sarah asks.

“Sure,” Fran says. “Just a minute.” She turns back to Brighton.

“That is a very good point,” Brighton nods. “I could have shown my fear. You’re right. Good night, Fran. I’m very glad I met you.”

“I’m very glad I met you, too,” Fran says.

\--

Sarah gets comfy right on Fran’s bed with her. Fran’s okay with that because she’s beginning to like closeness.

“How are you feeling?” Sarah asks first, smoothing a hand over the bandana on her head, and that makes Fran remember she is one-thousand percent a mom.

“I’m okay,” Fran admits. “I really... _ really _ don’t wanna leave here,” she admits.

“That’s really understandable. And I want you to know that Weston and I are in San Diego--”

“I know. Weston told me. He said he’d drive to me even, if I needed him,” Fran fills in.

“Well, Weston is right. We’ll absolutely come to you if you need us...but even if you don’t? We’d like to stay in touch. If that’s okay?”

“My brother...um...where he lives? That’s accessible, so you guys could maybe come over and hang out sometime if you wanted. If he agreed.” Fran hedges. She’s not positive if Sarah’s just being nice. Fran believed Weston, no problem, but maybe it’s Sarah’s being a mom that’s making Fran have doubts.

“We’ll talk about it,” Sarah nods. “Until then...this is my number.”

Fran does a double take as Sarah hands her a piece of actual paper with her number on it.

“Are you 39?” Fran checks, skeptical.

“I’m 35,” Sarah laughs. “Why?”

“Because I have another Avoider friend who’s 39 and she does stuff like write messages on paper.” Fran giggles.

“I have a feeling your friend and I will have a lot to talk about--”

“Yeah, being from the ancient times together,” Fran giggles.

Sarah laughs, too.

But then, she gets serious. “Listen. I know your moms. I see them. Okay? So if you need me for any reason...if they treat you in a way that makes you feel bad, or even if they do more than that? I’ll believe you. No matter what.”

“Even at home?” Fran checks.

“Even at home,” Sarah nods.

Fran sighs. “I kinda wish you were my mom. Weston gets to have all of his feelings, and I feel jealous of that. I can kinda have mine, but it’s scary, because I still don’t know what Moms are gonna do.”

“That does sound hard, and I think that your moms don’t know how lucky they are to have you for a daughter, Francesca. I really don’t.”

“Oh,” Fran says.

“Can I cut in?” Olivia asks, then, like it’s a dance.

“Let’s stay in touch,” Sarah says, getting back in her chair like NBD.

\--

“Hey,” Olivia greets, sitting where Sarah just sat, once Fran pats the space next to her. “I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to spend much time together this week.”

“I know,” Fran agrees. “It didn’t exactly happen the way I thought it would.”

“Are you okay? We haven’t really gotten to talk since Thursday,” Olivia mentions.

Fran wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want to talk about Thursday. But um… Do you like Giselle and Lexie more than you like me?”

“Oh, Fran, is that what you think?” Olivia says, worried. “No. I like you the exact same amount as I always have. More, even. Thank you for being so patient with me this week. I know it must’ve been hard to see me with other kids.”

“Because you were my safe adult at the workshop. You protected me,” Fran points out.

“And I always will. Okay? I always will protect you. No matter how many other kids there are.”

“You promise? And you’ll still be there on your nights if Moms ever decide they want to check in with me again?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to them about that,” Olivia says, grim.

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to talk to them anyways. I’d rather talk to you guys.”

\--

“Heyyyy,” Taylor calls out in a funny voice.

Olivia is gone, and Fran opens up her arms. “I don’t want you to go. I mean... _ I _ don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave here or you or anything.”

“Oh, man. You want to stay here ‘til we’re old ladies? Should we sleep here all year round and drive into town for groceries?” Taylor jokes, getting comfortable on Fran’s bed.

“I love getting groceries,” Fran whispers, snuggled up to Taylor’s side.

“Really? What’s your favorite grocery to buy?” Taylor asks.

“Bread. Or, you know, snacks.” Fran says.

“And what would your old lady fashion be? Would you dress in cardigans and...what do they call them? Pedal-pushers?”

“Fancy hats,” Fran decides. “Because I might still have this bump on my head.

“Ah,” Taylor says.

“Thank you for your message...by my armpit…” Fran says sleepily. “You’re my favorite counselor, too.”

“I’ll write a message by your armpit anytime. You know, consensually,” Taylor nods. “You...are the very best you there is. And you’re one of a kind. And I really love hanging out with you.”

“Because I’m gonna grow up to be somebody?” Fran mumbles, trying to stay awake.

“Because you  _ are _ somebody. Right now. I love you,” Taylor whispers. “As much as a counselor is allowed to love a camper.”

“I love you...so much my love explodes out of the world….” Fran manages before she falls asleep for real.

“Wow…” she just barely makes out Taylor’s voice.

She dreams of love overflowing, spilling over the sides of the world and into the galaxy, turning everything pink.

Until everything glows.


	61. Save

Weston usually wouldn’t shower with the campers around, but tonight, he does. He takes his entire bag into the bathroom, dressed in swim trunks and nothing else. Campfire smoke is clinging to him. Campfire smoke and barbecue smoke are too close for comfort in their smells.

He pokes his head out the door, to where Pablo and Koa and Sylvan are getting Nico and Jesse and Jonah settled. “Hey. Don’t come in here, okay?”

“Has everybody used the bathroom that has to use the bathroom?” Koa asks.

“Yes,” all three campers chorus.

“Okay, you’re good,” Sylvan says. “We won’t come in.”

Weston takes a long shower, turning the water up as hot as it will go. Then, he does everything twice. Washes his hair twice. Uses conditioner twice. Uses body wash twice. When he’s done, he just changes into his staff shirt and some athletic pants.

He meets Sarah between their cabins.

She sniffs the air. “Mmm. Orange pineapple smoothie,” she says. “Sorry I didn’t get the chance to shower. We were making the rounds with the campers, making sure to talk to all of them before they fell asleep.” She stops on the sidewalk in the dark and looks through her backpack, holding a flashlight between her teeth.

“What are you doing?” Weston asks.

Sarah unearths a couple of things from her bag. Then he hears spraying. Like spritzing the air. 

“Are you doing your hair?” he asks, confused.

“I’m trying not to smell like campfire. So...we have bug spray...which smells...like bug spray...and sunscreen. Which smells kind of tropical and nice.”

“Yeah, but we don’t have much time, so, can we…?” Weston asks.

They keep going and finally make it to the lounge. He finds the light switch and it’s like, he can breathe.

Sarah hands him leftover graham crackers, marshmallow and chocolate. He makes a couple s’mores in the microwave while she grabs bottled water from the fridge.

They finally settle on the couch. 

“I didn’t like the fire…” he hedges. “The smoke, I guess.”

“I’m sorry. That’s why I tried to mask it,” Mister apologizes. “Is it intolerable?”

“I mean...nothing’s intolerable. But like, I’m not really talking about you. I mean the fire tonight. I mean, being outside at night. And, like, everything coming up.”

“You feeling feelings?” Mister asks gently.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Like...when I was homeless feelings…” he ventures. “We don’t really talk about it. And I don’t really want to. But I need you to know I’m thinking about it.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Mister nods. “Can I help? Do you know of anything that you need?”

“I just...every single kid here has a shitty home life, it seems like. Or someone that treats them like shit somewhere. Maybe it’s not a parent, but it seems like… It seems like it usually is. And I was talking to my nature kids today…”

“Yeah?” Sarah asks, tuned in.

“Yeah, and they were all like,  _ ‘You’re so lucky Sarah’s your mom.’” _

“How did you feel about that?” Sarah wonders, concerned.

“Like, _ ‘I know I am,’  _ but I couldn’t really say that, could I? Plus...I just… I know how bad it  _ can _ be. I know I could easily be living on the streets right now, if I was still alive at all. On one hand, it really was just what happened to me. It was luck that I was placed in a family who knew about The Center, where I met you, and luck that you remembered me when you got cleared to be a foster parent.”

“It sounds like you were feeling pretty powerless,” Mister observes.

“Yeah,” he nods. “And at the same time, I don’t want you to think that I’m over here feeling like you did nothing for me. Because you did everything. You took me in when no one else would. You saved me from what could have been. You saved me from what scares me.”

“Honey, parents are supposed to save their children. They’re supposed to feed and clothe and shelter and love them. So they’re not on their own. Most kids don’t feel intense gratitude because they’ve never lived on the other side of that. They often don’t even know what they’re being protected from. It makes sense that you feel like this, Weston. But trust me...you’re not the only one in this room feeling intensely grateful.”

“Wait. What? Who else is there?” he asks, glancing around.

“There’s me,” Mister says softly. “I became a foster parent because loving and raising a child was my dream. I always wanted to adopt.”

“Really?” Weston asks.

“Really. Ever since I have memory. I’ve thought,  _ ‘There are so many kids who need homes and love. I can’t wait to love one.’” _

“Most people settle for adoption when they can’t do it the usual way,” Weston points out.

“Well, I’m not most people,” Sarah smiles a little.

“So...then you met me,” Weston prompts.

“Yes. So then, I grew up and I got a job at The Center to get some experience with kids who needed homes and love.”

“And I was a rude little shit,” Weston recalls. “Right?” 

He has no memory of their first meeting, but Sarah does:

“I saw you come in with your foster parents and I went over to introduce myself. You gave me a once over and said, _ ‘Who beat the shit out of you?’” _

“And you said, _ ‘A car,’”  _ Weston fills in.

“Right, and you were not a rude little shit. You were concerned, and you were filling in the gaps of what you didn’t know with what you did know. People being hurt. You were honest, and you were authentic.”

“Oh,” Weston nods.

“Honey, I did not settle for you. You were my dream from the beginning. And I know you feel like you’ll never be able to pay me back for saving you, I’ll never stop being grateful that you are my Stun.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow?” Weston checks.

“We are,” Mister nods. “We’re going to get in the car and drive home, and stop at the grocery store --”

“-- The same one we always stop at?” Weston asks.

“You know it,” Sarah nods, finishing up her s’more. “And we’re going to…”

“...Get a pineapple,” he finishes.

“And...look what I found in my ribbon collection…” she grins, holding up something yellow and black.

“That’s not a brown ribbon,” he points out.

“Nope. Look closer. What’s on it?” she invites.

Weston squints. It’s bats. So many bats he can’t count them all, all along this yellow ribbon.

He turns his head to show her his bats.

She does the same.

He nods at Sarah, smiling. “I think she’ll love it.”


	62. Begin

The bell wakes Francesca up on the last morning of camp. That sound makes her feel so sad. She won’t get to hear it anymore. This was the last time. The last thing she ever wants to do is leave here. But in two hours, she’ll have to.

She carefully unties the bandana that Taylor gave her and makes sure to put on her camp shirt signed by everyone.

_ “I used to think maybe you loved me, now baby, I’m sure!” _ Sarah sings, and Fran smiles in spite of herself.

_ “And I just can’t wait for the day when you knock on my door,” _ Olivia adds. She’s having more fun singing now.

_ “Now everytime I go for the mailbox, gotta hold myself down,” _ Taylor adds.

“ _ ‘Cause I just can’t wait ‘til you write me you’re coming around, _ ” Brighton finishes.

And then they all sing together that they’re walking on sunshine, and it’s such a happy sound that Fran really can’t be sad anymore.

When they finish singing, Fran says, “Here,” and hands Taylor the bandana she had in her hair.

“Oh, hey. That reminds me.” Taylor says. She leaves and comes back with a whole rainbow of bandanas. “Take your pick. You should get to wear one home. And we don’t sell them in the canteen,” she says regretfully.

Carefully, Fran picks out the teal one. 

Then she confides, “Because when I fell last year, I was wearing this color when a ton of scary things happened to me. And my new camp shirt is teal, so…”

“So maybe it’s a better association,” Taylor comments gently. “Safer.”

“My hair probably is really messy under there. Do you think you could...you know...help me do it one more time, even though I’ll wear that over top?” Fran gestures to the bandana.

“You know I will,” Taylor nods.

In the bathroom, people are busy getting ready. Talking. Sarah’s singing.

“You know, I still have some cookies,” Fran ventures. “I can pay you back for the bandana…”

“Ooh, you know I love cookies, but you keep them. The bandana’s a gift,” Taylor says.

“But I don’t have anything for you,” Fran objects.

“That’s okay,” Taylor reassures, carefully brushing her hair. “You didn’t know I was planning to give you anything.”

“That’s true.”

Finally, it’s time to leave for breakfast. Francesca waves goodbye to Sunshine cabins and walks carefully past the bench outside. She won’t miss that.

Breakfast is bagels and cream cheese, but luckily there’s peanut butter, too. And hot chocolate, so Fran can feel good and think of Pearl. Giselle is very excited to go home, and so is Lexie. They have lots of plans to stay in touch.

Fran looks at Jesse. “Can we text?”

Jesse nods and offers his phone.

Fran does the same. Then she asks Brighton, “Can we text?”

“We sure can,” Brighton agrees.

“Thank you. Everytime a safe adult gives me their information, I feel more powerful.”

“That’s amazing,” Weston says.

“Do the counselors go home right when we do?” Fran asks, eating her bagel.

“Pretty much,” Weston agrees.

Before she even knows it, breakfast is over and everybody heads to the rec building to wait to be picked up. On the way, she hears Mr. Santanos call out “If anybody would like to take pictures with anybody else before you leave, ask first, and be sure the other person agrees enthusiastically.”

“Can we? Take a picture together?” Fran asks, gathering all her counselors together around her.

“Of course!” They all agree and they take a really good picture.

“Can I take one of you and Weston?” Fran asks. “Of, like, your safe familyness?”

“Let’s ask Weston,” Sarah says. 

“Let’s ask Weston what?” he asks.

“Francesca wants to document our safe familyness on film. She wants a picture of us. How do you feel about that?” Sarah asks.

Weston grins. Then he squats so that he and Sarah are on the same level and Fran takes the picture.

It’s really good.

\--

In the rec building, Fran finds her cabin picture in the picture frame Dia painted. It’s like a reminder. Like Dia’s here with her now. Fran picks it up from the counselor behind the table and packs it with her stuff.

Then she goes to wait by Jonah.

He’s been quiet this whole time.

Fran wants to hold his hand, but remembers his fingers just in time (and also consent.)

“We’ll stay in touch,” she says softly.

“Can you hush for a second?” Jonah asks. He’s not impatient. He’s soft, almost begging. “I’m just trying to memorize everything.”

Fran blinks. That’s a good idea, actually, and so she tries to do exactly the same thing, for as long as they can.

She sits and waits as campers leave. Nico first. Then Giselle. Then Jesse and Lexie get picked up at the exact same time.

Jonah’s mom comes next. Fran tries not to stare as they both go toward each other in their wheelchairs and hug. Before camp, Fran had never seen a mom in a wheelchair, and now she’s seen two.

“Mom. Come meet Francesca,” Jonah urges. 

“Hi Francesca. I’m Ann.”

“Hi,” Fran says shyly.

“She’s my best friend. Fran and Dia and I read Harry Potter together every day,” Jonah shares.

Fran tries to think of being able to share with Moms the way Jonah is. Happily. Easily. She can’t really imagine it.

“I’ll write to you every day,” Jonah promises, before he and his mom leave together.

Fran is about to start crying when a sound stops her.

“Hey!” a familiar voice calls out, and Fran looks all around until it’s super obvious who it is:

Dominique is coming right toward her.

“Oh, my gosh! Hi!” Fran pretty much screams. 

Dominique hugs Fran so tight she picks her up off the ground and then sets her down again carefully and holds on, to be sure Fran has her balance.

“Oh, I missed you so much,” Dominique exclaims. 

“Did you bring Roberta?” Fran asks.

Dominique laughs. “I did not. I don’t think she would have liked the hot car trip.”

“Fran!” Mari exclaims.

“Mariana!” Fran says and runs to her next.

“I’m so sorry you got hurt. Are you okay?” Mari asks.

“Mostly,” Fran says. “I was about to say that it looks worse than it is, but it  _ is _ pretty much worse. It was scary.”

“I bet it was,” Mariana says, sympathetic. 

Fran hugs her again and is looking over her shoulder when she sees Jesus carrying a box and a drink holder with cups. Dudley’s next to him, his leash somehow in Jesus’s hand.

“Hey! What did you bring?” Fran asks.

Jesus sets down the box on a nearby table and opens his arms. “Hey, buddy, I missed you. Are you okay?”

Fran’s still trying to see inside the box, but finally, she tears herself away. “Kinda,” she shrugs, finally ready for Jesus’s hug. Sometimes his hugs are so good, she tears up. But this is camp and she doesn’t have to be brave - even though it is Camp Bravery.

She wipes her eyes and turns as she hears Sarah’s voice.

“Did somebody bring grasshopper pie?” Sarah asks, coming over to the table and eyeing it.

Mari nods. “For whoever wants it.”

“Whoever, like counselors?” 

Fran laughs. “This is Weston. He’s my nature counselor.”

Weston studies the box even closer and then glances at Mariana.

“You were at Gimmie Pies? I work there. You know, in the off season,” he shares.

“I knew I recognized you! You’re always giving a size up, with coffee and whatever,” Mariana says, and it’s a weird moment where the different worlds are colliding, but it’s okay.

Weston looks a little embarrassed when he says, “Caught me.”

When Fran looks again, she sees that all the counselors from her cabin are around for pie or coffee. All her counselors plus Weston.

“You guys. These are all of my counselors from my cabin,” Fran introduces. “And these are my brother and sister and my mentor.”

“Your brother and sister and your mentor have great taste,” Taylor says, eating a big bite of pie.

“Thank you guys, this is delicious,” Olivia shares.

“I should stick around the rec building more often,” Brighton adds.

“You know, Weston brings home birthday coffee and grasshopper pie for me when it’s my birthday?” Sarah shares with a smile at Weston. “So, this is feeling really festive right now.”

They all laugh, and it feels good. Better than good.

“We’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us, so we should probably get going,” Jesus says, and Fran’s good mood starts to fade. “But listen, if you guys are local, maybe we could hang out sometime?”

“Yeah,” Sarah agrees, with a look at Weston.

“That’d be cool,” Weston says.

Fran gives everyone hugs and it’s weird, but she doesn’t even cry. She’s too excited about The Avoiders meeting her counselors.

“It’s so cool that you brought pie and coffee for them,” Fran enthuses, buckling her seatbelt. “They love coffee, and Weston even works at that pie shop. I didn't even know that! We went there right before camp! I maybe saw him and didn’t know it!”

“Hey, guess what?” Mari says. “This is the day that we got to bring you home from the hospital when you were a baby. And we’re bringing you home again,” she says with a soft sound to her voice. Like she’s remembering Fran as a baby right this minute.

“Were you happy?” Fran asks.

“So happy,” Mariana nods.

“I like that you’re coming to get me again. It’s like symmetrical…” Fran ventures.

“It is,” Jesus nods. “Kinda perfect.”

Fran’s phone rings then - her video chat ringtone.

“Who is it?” Jesus asks.

“It’s Pearl…” Fran says, sounding confused but happy.

She answers it:

“Hello?”

“Hey! Fran! It’s Pearl and Levi! We can’t wait to hear about camp. Are you okay? Is everyone else there with you?” Pearl asks.

“Yes. Dominique is driving and Mariana’s in the front and Jesus and Dudley are here next to me.”

“So, we know how you feel about being left out of stuff,” Levi ventures. His hair is a new style. Longer. And he’s wearing a tiny little bit of eye makeup. “And we wanted you to be the first to know....”

“What?” Fran asks. “I can’t take the suspense!”

“We got the call from Gateway. We’re moving to California!” Pearl announces.

“Oh my gosh! Are you gonna be here by the time I get home?”

“No. Soon, though,” Levi tells her.

Everybody in the car is freaking out with happiness.

Soon.

Soon they’ll be together again. For real this time. Because no one will have to leave ever again.


	63. Pineapple

Weston’s on his way to the car with Sarah, when she catches his attention:

“Oh. Stun. Hold on.”

He stops. “What?”

“Is that a Camp Bravery walkie-talkie clipped to your pocket?” she asks curiously.

“Oh. Shit, yeah. Mr. Santanos gave it to me for the nature walk and I guess I just...forgot,” Weston manages, with a nervous laugh.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We caught it in time. Let’s swing back by the office and drop this off. Then, we can go.” Mister encourages.

“Ugh,” Weston groans, but he turns around and walks back to the office.

“Hey. I thought you two had left already,” Rosa comments, her face lighting up with a tired smile.

“Almost,” Weston answers. “I mean...I almost left with this. Sorry,” he apologizes.

“Hey, Roman. Found your walkie-talkie,” Rosa calls.

Just like that, Mr. Santanos is in the doorway of his office. “Oh?” he says. Then his eyes fall on Weston and Sarah. “Oh, hey thank you for bringing it back.”

“I almost didn’t. Luckily, Sarah saw it,” Weston points out.

“You both did excellent work this week. Having you here was a definite asset. I hope you’ll consider coming back,” Mr. Santanos invites. 

“I’ll sleep for a few days straight, and let you know,” Sarah laughs. “But thank you both so much for everything you do here. The safe environment… I never got to go to camp as a kid, and now it sort of feels like I have.”

“Me, too,” Weston nods.

“It’s our pleasure,” Rosa says.

\--

“Hey! You guys!” Brighton calls out.

“Hey!” Sarah returns, smiling.

“I just wanted to say goodbye and check in… Weston, are you okay? I know you were nervous about the end of the week and social workers,” Brighton ventures.

“I’m good. You kept your word, so…” he shrugs.

“It was great working with you,” Sarah offers.

“You, too,” Brighton returns.

\--

“Sarah! Weston!” a voice calls out behind them. Weston turns. It’s Taylor. “I just wanted to say bye.”

“Bye,” Weston says. “Thanks...for talking that one night.”

“No problem,” Taylor says.

“Being on staff with both of you was a dream,” Sarah tells them. 

“Can we stay in touch?” Taylor asks. “I know I’m not original recipe NAU but...you guys matter to me.”

Sarah checks with Weston who says, “Yeah. Of course.”

“We’d love to,” Sarah enthuses.

They swap info. Sarah and Taylor swap hugs. And then, they’re finally on their way.

\--

“Oh my God, I thought we were never going to get out of there!” Weston exclaims. “Can we drive thru somewhere? One cream cheese bagel just didn’t do it.”

“Of course, yeah,” Sarah says. They go by McDonald’s and then Starbucks to cover all their bases.

They don’t talk much. Sarah multi-tasks eating and driving.

“Are you really gonna sleep for a few days?” Weston checks once they’ve been on the road for half an hour.

“I mean...I’ll take a lot of naps. Is that more clear?” Sarah checks.

Weston nods. He’s finished his two plain cheeseburgers, his fries, his orange soda and his M&M McFlurry. He feels like he should wait until he moves onto his coffee drink.

“Our boss said we did good,” Mister points out.

“He did,” Weston nods.

“How do you feel?” she wonders.

“Uh… Relieved, mostly. I wanna get back home. Back to safety. And you and me, and all that shit. You?”

“I’m feeling...very tired...but very accomplished...and unbelievably proud of you.” Sarah tells him. “You dealt with a lot this week. Including some major triggers, and we got through them. You stayed honest and authentic.”

“I didn’t run...even though I felt like it,” Weston remembers. “That might be the first time ever…”

“That’s a huge deal,” Sarah beams.

They pause for a while, and Weston stares out the window at the passing scenery.

“A social worker didn’t take the kids,” Weston observes. “Just like Brighton said.”

“That is true,” Sarah nods. “How are you feeling about that?”

“Relieved. Kinda hyper. Giddy?” he asks.

“Yeah? You feel relieved and giddy for the kids?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, ‘cause no one took them away from their families, so I’m, like…yeah. When their parents came and got them, it did sorta feel like visitations with Ashley. Except these kids actually _ liked _ their parents.” He pauses. “Shit. I mean…”

“Honey, it’s okay. I know you have complicated feelings around Ashley...and Paul...and me. And that’s okay.”

“I just...don’t want… I don’t know. Even when things were at their worst, I always loved her. I just...didn’t always like what she did. That’s what I meant.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Sarah nods.

Another pause. They’re halfway home.

“Francesca was the only kid whose parents didn’t come to pick her up. Did you notice that?” Weston comments.

“I did,” Sarah nods.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“I think - speaking of relief - I think Francesca seemed relieved to see her brother and her sister and her mentor. And I think that’s what matters.” Sarah points out.

They reach San Diego city limits, and Weston feels like he can breathe. They’re almost home when he sits up suddenly:

“Shit! We forgot her!” he exclaims.

“We didn’t forget her. The store is right up here on our left,” Sarah points out calmly.

Weston takes a deep breath and lets it out. He double checks Sarah’s ribbon supply in the console between the driver’s and passenger’s seat.

Sarah parks, and Weston is out of the car in two seconds. “I can get your chair, if you want,” he volunteers, already opening the back door of the car.

“That would really help, Stun, thanks,” Mister says.

Another pause. “We’re back to being us. Mister and Stun,” he observes.

“You and me and the pineapple,” Sarah remarks as she transfers into her chair.

“You and me and the pineapple,” he echoes. “Hey, are we doing, like, a whole grocery shop, or are we just pineapple shopping?” he asks.

“I was thinking we’d just grab a pineapple, but if you see something else you’re hungry for, food is a basic need, and I’m happy to get it.” Sarah explains, pushing herself up the curb cut, a little breathless.

“I can help?” he offers standing behind her, but not touching.

“Thanks, Stun, I’d appreciate it,” Mister says.

\--

“I’m...kinda proud of me for doing all that...it’s weird,” Weston says as they make their way toward the fresh produce. “Not pushing you. Just...all the camp stuff.”

“I understand. It’s weird to feel proud of yourself?” Sarah checks. “Yeah, it can be, right? Because you weren’t really raised to feel that way?”

“Not at all,” Weston confirms. “Oh. I see them. All of them. Holy shit,” he manages. “She’s there...with all of her sisters… God, how do I choose?”

“You’ll know,” Sarah reassures, patting his hand. “And the others will understand. They’ll be here next time.”

“Well, good for you! It’s so good to see you out and about!” an older lady says to Sarah. Then, to Weston, “You’re taking such good care of her. I wish my husband would push me in a chair all day.” She drops her voice to a not-so-quiet whisper: “It’s a shame she’s in a wheelchair. She’s so pretty.”

“First of all, this is my son. And second of all, we take care of each other.”

“And third of all, your logic is fucked up,” Weston says. “That’s like saying it’s a shame you’re so ugly when you can walk. One has nothing to do with the other.”

“Well… I was just trying to be nice…” the woman huffs, walking away.

“Asshole,” Weston mutters under his breath. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes, because you’re here, and I know you see the harm. No, because it always hurts. No matter how many times I’ve heard it.” Sarah admits. 

“What do you think? Should we load her cart with pineapples when her back is turned?” Weston jokes.

Sarah throws her head back and laughs. “Thank you, Stun, I needed that. And...I don’t know if it would be fair to the pineapples,” she stage-whispers.

“Shit, you’re right,” Weston nods. 

Finally, he’s ready. He walks back and forth, eyeing all the pineapples but not touching any. Years of grocery shopping with Ashley burned into his brain.

“You can touch them. You have to give them a squeeze, right?” Mister asks.

Weston nods. That’s the only way to know if they’re ripe. Firm, with a little bit of give when squeezed.

He whispers under his breath, letting them know he’s about to pick them up, but that he won’t hurt them. 

It’s his third or fourth one that feels right.

“Do you want to come home with us?” he asks in a whisper.

“How does she feel?” Sarah asks. 

Weston’s face breaks into a smile. “She’s perfect.” Then, he goes serious. “Will you carry her? So I can push you?”

“I can,” Sarah agrees solemnly, accepting the pineapple from Weston. “Thank you for trusting me with that. I know it’s a big deal.”

“It is, but I also know I can trust you,” Weston says.

They go through a checkout lane without the ableist lady in it, and Sarah pays for their pineapple.

They get back to the car, and Weston is already in the center console looking for the ribbon with the bats. Sarah cuts a piece with craft scissors she also keeps there and gently ties the ribbon around her leaves.

“There. Didn’t hurt a bit, did it?” Sarah asks.

“I don’t think so,” Weston shakes his head. “You’re always really gentle.”

Sarah passes Weston the pineapple. “You should hold her while I drive. Okay?”

Weston cradles her in his arms, careful of her ribbon. 

“Is she ready?” Sarah asks.

“She is,” Weston nods. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
